


No More Lonely Nights

by Ride4812



Series: Waiting On My Own Too Long [4]
Category: Shameless (US)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-07
Updated: 2021-02-06
Packaged: 2021-03-12 04:00:45
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 66,035
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29254086
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ride4812/pseuds/Ride4812
Relationships: Ian Gallagher & Mickey Milkovich, Ian Gallagher/Mickey Milkovich
Series: Waiting On My Own Too Long [4]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2146308
Comments: 1
Kudos: 37





	1. Chapter 1

Chapter One: Free

Ian Gallagher. Buried deep beneath the Earth, flesh turning to roots, twisted and strong,  
intertwining in a delicate dance before breaching the landscape, strong now. Solid and supportive,  
an intricate system rising up, sprouting fresh new life, reaching. A transformation, blowing in the  
wind, leaves become birds, soaring on the skin, freedom.

“What do you think?” The tattoo artist asked, watching as Mickey gazed at the new piece in the  
mirror, his expression unreadable.

“It’s good,” He responded, a smiling curling up on his lips, “Really good.”

When he’d told Ian earlier that day that today was the day he’d be covering up his tattoo, his  
fiancé had tried his best to be understanding and not show his hurt, his defeat. Mickey could read  
him like a book, though, and the slight pout that Ian walked around with for the remainder of the  
morning made his resistance to the idea apparent, “You know it’s not you, right? We talked about  
this,” Mickey had reminded him. Ian had just swallowed hard and nodded.

It was a muggy June afternoon and the air was so thick that it lay heavy on his skin, oppressive.  
Pushing past the difficulty he was having pulling in a deep breath, Mickey lit up a cigarette and  
picked up his pace. He never thought he’d be the kind of guy that would have hopes for his  
wedding day, but he definitely desired that the weather not be so stifling. When he fantasized of  
the moment that he and Ian would embrace at the end of their wedding ceremony, he had never  
imagined that they would literally stick together due to perspiration. He shrugged off the thought,  
after all, he could think of worse things than being stuck to Ian.

The daydreams weren’t his only distraction recently. It had been happening sporadically for the  
last several weeks, waves of emotion taking him by surprise, splashing over him. On his walk  
home from the tattoo parlor, he was washed in realization. One week. One week until he married  
Ian. The arrangements were set, out of town siblings had purchased plane tickets, and they had  
planned a goddamn honeymoon for afterwards; shit was happening. As perfect as it all was, as  
much sense as everything made, it never ceased to amaze him. There had been so many years lost,  
that sometimes he had to remind himself that he wasn’t 22 years old anymore. Their relationship  
hadn’t picked up where it had left off; it had shifted, escalated to another level that he couldn’t  
have fathomed all that time ago. They were open, patient and listened to each other. Instead of the  
temperamental tsunamis of love, fear and anger that accelerated them through their earlier years,  
things were settled, undulating only slightly when they were faced with the typical challenges of  
life.

Mickey felt anxious as he walked into the shitty apartment. As much as he had gotten the tattoo  
for himself, he hoped that Ian liked it, understood it. He was surprised when he didn’t find the  
redhead sitting on the couch, in his usual spot, playing Doom. He looked down and saw Ian’s  
sneakers lying on the small pad of tile by the front door, indicating that he hadn’t gone for a run.  
He made his way across the room and down the miniscule hallway to find the door to their  
bedroom was closed, which was unusual. It was 2pm and Ian didn’t nap. He turned the handle  
gently, not wanting the hinges to squeak in case his fiancé was asleep.

The room was dark, but he could see Ian’s form in the bed. He leaned in closer and was startled to  
see that his green eyes were open wide, staring into nothingness, “The fuck! You creepy ass  
motherfucker!” Mickey gasped, jumping back.

“Hi,” Ian said softly, nonplussed by his fiancés dramatic reaction.

“Were you sleeping? Did I wake you?” Mickey asked, moving in closer and sitting on the side of  
the bed. He instinctively reached his hand up to raked it through Ian’s hair.

Ian closed his eyes and allowed himself to get lost in the tenderness of the action. He knew that he  
shouldn’t be worried, shouldn’t be concerned that Mickey didn’t love him, didn’t forgive him, he  
knew that, but knowing it didn’t mean that the conflicting thoughts would dissipate. It was his  
name and Mickey hated it. He wasn’t callous to Mickey’s reasoning, to his emotions. He  
understood, but Ian couldn’t deny that it didn’t make the tattoo being covered any easier for him.  
The physical proof that their love had never died, over all those years, the time apart, through all  
his mistakes, was gone. He opened his eyes again, wanting to see Mickey, wanting to really look  
at him, see if his whole presence was different. It wasn’t. “I don’t think so,” Ian responded.

“You don’t know if you were asleep?” Mickey asked, incredulously, “You feel ok?” He reached  
the hand that wasn’t tousling Ian’s locks up to feel his forehead. He was almost hoping Ian would  
have a fever. Physical ailments were easier to cope with than the mental variety.

“Mmmhmm,” Ian hummed turning on his side so that he could loop his arms around Mickey’s  
waist, “A little low,” He admitted.

“Low, low?” Mickey gnawed at the inside of his cheek. It had been years since he’d been with  
Ian during a depressive episode. He knew what to do, how to care for him, that wasn’t what had  
him worried. What scared him, more than anything, was that Ian wouldn’t let him be there, to  
cosset him, keep him safe, that Ian would push him away again, shun his compassion.

Ian shook his head, “Not like that.”

Mickey exhaled the breath he didn’t realize he’d been holding. One day they were going to be  
there again, he knew that, but today wasn’t that day, “If I turn on the light, are you gonna turn to  
ash or something?”

Ian laughed lightly, “I think that’s only sunlight, Mick.”

“Yeah? That right, smartguy? Reading up on your Vampire Diaries or some shit?” Mickey teased  
leaning down to press his lips against Ian’s. Mickey needed the kiss as much as he did; Ian could  
feel it, so he palmed the back of the brunet’s head and pulled himself up to his elbows so he could  
get deep into his lover’s mouth. The kiss was intense, the neediness of the connection bordering  
on rapacious, both desperate for confirmation, acceptance.

It wasn’t until Ian whispered into Mickey’s mouth, “Lemme see it,” that they broke apart.

Mickey leaned over to turn on the lamp on the bedside table, “It’s still, you know, red and shit.”

“I know, I got a few,” Ian reminded him, slightly amused by Mickey’s apparent nervousness.  
Mickey nodded and pulled his tank top over his head. He could feel his breath high in his throat  
and he swallowed it down hard. He glanced at Ian’s eyes as he reached to remove the gauze, and  
cringed at the sadness that was settled in them. For an instant, he regretted his decision, thought he  
may have made a mistake.

“C’mon,” Ian urged him on, giving him a small smile, “The anticipation is killing me, man.”

“Alright, alright,” He peeled back the gauze and looked down at the tattoo and then at Ian.

“Mick,” He sighed, trying find air again once he blew it out, “It’s….wow, Mickey. It’s beautiful.”

“Beautiful?” Mickey grimaced, “Not so into beautiful.”

“You’re into me though,” Ian quipped, face turning serious again quickly, “It’s amazing.”

“You really like it?” Mickey questioned, apprehensively, “They made your name into the roots.  
See?”

Ian nodded and pursed his lips. He reached up and wiped off a stray tear that had fallen to his  
cheek, then another.

“You fucking hate it,” Mickey fretted, rubbing his forehead. Only he would do this shit right  
before their wedding.

“I…,” Ian struggled to find his words as the tears kept rolling, “My name.”

“We fucking talked about this,” Mickey said, tone exasperated. His anxiety was giving way to  
fear, and as it typically did, his fear was morphing into anger, “We talked about this, Ian.”  
Ian shook his head, “No,” He raised his finger up and ghosted it over the tattoo.

“You fucking ET?” Mickey groused, “Fuck, man.”

“No, my name, it says ‘Ian.’ Right here. It says my name,” He was in awe, “You put my name  
back on you.”

“You didn’t notice that?” Mickey questioned, narrowing his eyes, “It’s right fucking there.”

“I was focused on the roots,” He admitted, his eyes still wet and wide,”I can’t believe…. wow.”

“The tattoo artist was going on about your name being like the foundation of something more  
special, more us now, or some shit. I don’t know,” Mickey said clearly attempting to play down  
his part in the sentimental story behind the tattoo, “And the leaves turning into birds kinda  
represent….”

“You’re free,” Ian uttered, overwhelmed.

“With you,” Mickey nodded his confirmation, “Always been free with you.”

“I’m alive with you, you know that, you make me feel alive, without you…,” He shuddered at the  
thought, “Without you I go through the motions, like a zombie. I never want to do that again. I  
want to be alive. With you.”

“Fuck, you’re really going all Shakespeare on me, Gallagher,” Mickey snarked, uncomfortable by  
the palpable romance in the room.

“What I said was nothing like Shakespeare,” Ian informed him, rolling his eyes.

“You learn that in your fucking books?” Mickey taunted, “All those books you read?”

“What do you have against reading, it’s so weird. Seriously, when you get lost in a good book,  
there’s something cathartic about it,” Ian told him, ready to delve into the same discussion they  
had time and time again.

“Why are we talking about this right now?” Mickey asked with a grin, “Seriously?”

“We can’t help ourselves? We like to argue?” Ian suggested, moving in closer to Mickey, “I love  
it.” He assured him. He pressed his lips against Mickey’s full pair, “Do you know how much I  
love you?”

“I got an idea, but you can show me for sure,” He said flicking his eyebrows up and pushing Ian’s  
shoulders down.

“Real fucking subtle, Mick,” Ian laughed pushing Mickey back on the bed and beginning to  
unbuckle his pants, “So let me get this right, I get a tattoo of your name and suck your dick, then  
you get a tattoo with my name and I suck your dick. How’s that fun for me?”

“It’s fun for you because you get to suck my dick,” Mickey said smirking down at Ian as he pulled  
down his boxer briefs, “and you fucking love to suck my dick.”

“Mmmhmmm,” Ian agreed licking his lips, “You know, the vows I wrote for you are really  
fucking nice. Really sweet. I feel like I’m gonna be saying all this romantic shit, making all these  
promises, and you’re gonna respond by saying ‘That’s nice, Gallagher, now suck my dick.”

“Shit, I have to remember to write that in,” Mickey said with a huge, toothy grin, “I was having a  
hard time, but I think you just helped me out, man. Thanks.”

Ian smiled as he took Mickey’s cock into his mouth. Mickey sighed and leaned his head back as  
Ian took him all the way in. He felt the tip of his dick rubbing against the grooves at the back of  
Ian’s throat and he began to mumble, “To have and to hold, my dick in your mouth, for the rest of  
my days, yada yada, shit like that, suck my cock.”

“I’m fucking done,” Ian sputtered, removing Mickey from his mouth. They both held their  
stomachs as they fell into fits of laughter, trying to outdo each other with vulgar vows.

Chapter Two: Surprise

"This is one of Mandy's more bullshit ideas," Mickey groused, letting his fingers get tangled up in  
Ian's hair. His fiancés' head was cradled in his lap, his body sprawled out on the couch.  
Ian looked up at him and sighed, "I know, but it's tradition."

"Because we're so fucking traditional?" Mickey shot back. He never wanted to be away from Ian,  
but this night of all nights would be especially tough for him. Tomorrow, he was going to stand in  
front of family and friends and profess his love for the guy. He was already anxious as hell, and  
the only thing that could ever abate his worry was Ian. He wanted his fiancé holding him,  
grounding him, "I'm not gonna sleep, man. Not without you, you know that."

"If it's bad luck to see each other, we shouldn't see each other," Ian reasoned.

"You're buying into this shit?"

Ian shrugged. He wasn't, but Mickey didn't need to know that. Mandy had insisted on throwing  
them an epic bachelor party and then came up with the idea that Ian should surprise Mickey by  
stripping at said party. Ian wasn't going for it, because the idea of shaking his shit in front of  
people familiar to him was completely unappealing, but then his future sister-in-law went for the  
guts. "Fine, if you're not gonna strip, I'll have to hire someone else. There WILL be a stripper at  
this party. Up to you, you wanna grind on your man or do you want someone else to do it?" So it  
was settled, Ian was stripping.

He felt his phone vibrate from where it was resting on his stomach and looked down to see that it  
was a text from Mandy. He had to figure out a way to look at it, without Mickey seeing it, and not  
look shady. He sat up to take a big stretch and shifted his position so his feet were on Mickey's lap  
and his head was on the arm of the couch, "Can you rub them a little? Bussing is kicking my ass."

Mickey raised his eyebrows as if he wasn't gonna buy into the spoiling, but immediately started  
rubbing anyway.

Ian opened Mandy's text.

-We still good? He have any clue?-  
-All good- Ian confirmed.  
-Cool. We'll see you after your family dinner then. You decide on what color shorts?-  
-Blue to match your eyes- Ian typed with a smirk.

"What's funny?" Mickey asked nonchalantly.

"Mandy, bitching about you bitching about tonight," Ian responded. It was only a partial lie. She  
had bitched about him earlier when she came with Ian to pick up their rings.

-STOOOOOOOP. I'm not gonna make it-  
-Calm down, I don't even have blue ones.-  
-Dick. CU Tonight. Bring your best moves. Mickey's gonna die-  
-Die or kill us. Either way. If he gets pissed I'm blaming it all on you.-  
-I'll take all the credit. This is the best idea I've ever had and I have great ideas-  
-Humble, Mands-  
-STFU & Dance!-

"I could tell Mandy and Olivia to come stay here with you tonight, you know, instead of them  
staying at Iggy's," Ian suggested with a grin.

"Fuck off," Mickey threw his finger up at Ian for affect, "Don't need company. Just need you."

"Shit, you're too fucking cute," Ian crooned sitting up so he could straddle Mickey's lap. He  
leaned down to kiss him, "Mmmm I love you."

"Love you, too," Mickey said smacking his lips against Ian's again. He dug fingers into the  
redhead's ass and pulled him in closer. They made out, their kisses long and lazy, until Ian peeled  
himself away.

"I gotta go," He said breathless, his lips well-kissed and pink. He climbed off of Mickey, but  
before he could cross the room to grab his duffel, the brunet grabbed his hand.

"Come home tonight," He licked his lips and stared up into Ian's emerald eyes, "Just..." he paused  
and swallowed hard, "I want you to come home." There was something more there, Ian could feel  
it. A laceration deep within Mickey that he worried would never truly heal; a wound he was  
responsible for, so fucking sorry for.

Ian knew he'd be holding Mickey that night and considered telling him so to take some of the  
anxiety away, but he didn't want to ruin the surprise. As much shit as he gave Mandy about the  
idea, he knew that though Mickey would complain outwardly about it, he'd secretly be over the  
moon.

Ian dancing for him, in front of drooling girls, would get Mickey hot and possessive, dying to hop  
on his cock and ride him like a machine. Fuck the hell out of him and show him that nobody could  
make him cum like he could, and love every minute of it.

As twisted as it was, they both fed off of jealousy. It was a drug for them and every once in a  
while, they needed a hit. When they got high on the emotion, there was nothing like it. They  
tripped off passion, the need to own the each other. It was the only time during sex that they  
fought for dominance, and fuck if they didn't both live for that fight. Though they had come a long  
way, were settled, getting married, madly in love- they still craved that proof; Ian because he  
recalled so vividly when a hand resting on glass would scare Mickey, make him shut down and  
Mickey because he had lost the love of his life for too long.

He brought Mickey's hand to his mouth to lay a gentle kiss on his knuckle before simply saying,

"I love you," grabbing his bag, and leaving. 3 hours, 3 hours and he'd have his lips back on  
Mickey's. Less than a day and they'd be married.

When Ian walked into the Gallagher house, he was slapped in the face by nostalgia. It had been  
years since all of his siblings had been in the same place at the same time. Now, he found them all  
sitting around the living room, drinking beer, and joking.

"Ian!" Debbie exclaimed, jumping off the couch and bounding over to hug her brother tightly.

"Hey Debs," He said kissing the top of her head.

"It's been too long. How are you? Excited?" She asked, her disposition positively giddy.

"Really fucking excited," Ian confirmed with a grin. He turned to salute Carl and then wrap him in  
a hug, "Looking good, man. Army treating you well?"

"Army's fine but I fucking hate Texas. It's such a backwoods, hillbilly ass place," Carl replied  
shaking his head in disgust.

"Rather be South Side for life?" Lip asked Carl while hugging Ian.

"You already know," Carl confirmed, smirking, "Miss it here."

"You just miss me," Debbie teased, punching his arm gently.

"That makes no sense," Carl tsked, "You don't even live here anymore."

"Hey sweet face," Fiona greeted kissing Ian's cheek. You ready for tomorrow?"

"Can't wait," Ian responded sitting down on the couch.

"You drinking anything, Ian?" Lip asked as he walked into the kitchen.

He could use a beer, "Yeah, grab me one."

Dinner was full of raucous story telling, laughter and teasing. It was an old school Gallagher night  
and Ian was buzzing so nicely that he wasn't even affected by Frank's impromptu drop by and  
subsequent bloviating. As the night was winding down he found himself out on the porch,  
enjoying the warm summer night and a joint with Lip and Carl.

"Not gonna lie," Lip said shaking his head in disbelief, "Never thought I'd see the day that you  
and Mickey would get fucking married."

"How'd you miss all the signs?," Carl asked inhaling deeply before passing the weed to Ian,

"Mickey always loved Ian beyond stereotypes and expectations. I knew they'd end up together the  
day we picked Ian up from jail. Never saw anything like that."

"What d'you mean?" Ian questioned leaning the side of his head against the railing and exhaling  
some of the smoke. He watched as it billowed around him. His mind was fuzzy and stuck on one-track, Mickey.   
He couldn't wait to surprise him. 10 more minutes.

"Unconditional love," Carl responded, "You kidnapped his baby, you were sick, pushed him  
away. He loved you through all of it. You could see it. His eyes only saw you, saw through it all,  
looked right at you."

"When did you become such a romantic philosopher?" Lip asked with taking a puff, "What did  
they do to you in the army? Thought they were supposed to make you hard."

"Met someone," Carl replied, "Don't know if it's gonna be forever. But..." he paused and smiled at  
Ian who was looking at him with his eyebrows raised, "I like the way he smells."

"He, huh?" Ian grinned, "Alright."

"Shit, you're bi?" Lip asked the shock apparent on his face.

"Not into labels. Never been with a guy before Gage," Carl said with a shrug.

"Happy for you," Ian said leaning over to pat his brother's back, "Should've brought him."

"He's active duty, too. They didn't approve his leave. I'll bring him around at some point though."

"Am I missing out on something here?" Lip asked with a smirk, rubbing his head, "It seems like  
I'm the only one that doesn't get it. Dick's really that good?"

"It's really that good," Ian confirmed standing up and stretching, "Speaking of dick, I'm about to  
go get some." He smiled at his brothers and headed inside to change and say goodbye to the rest  
of the family.

Once he was in his T-shirt and workout pants, with booty shorts on underneath, he grabbed his  
duffel and started on the short walk to the Milkovich house. It was a familiar route, one he had  
taken hundreds, if not thousands of times, but tonight it felt different. Tonight, it was the last time  
he'd do it as a single man, as anything but Mickey's partner, bound together, forever. He wasn't  
sure if it was the beer, the weed or the excitement, but he was feeling high as hell, ready to get his  
body on Mickey's.

*

"I don't think I should take another one," Mickey protested as Mandy pushed another tequila shot  
into his hand.

"Oh C'mon," Olivia taunted, "Its your bachelor party! You have to get wiggy, wiggy WASTED."  
She was practically falling over drunk herself after one too many shots. They had been at it for a  
few hours and everyone was feeling no pain.

"Y'know, you aren't any less annoying the drunker I am," Mickey stated with rubbing his  
fingertips over his eyebrows, "which has gotta be some kinda fuckin' accomplishment."

"Quit your complaining and drink, bitch!" Sam directed earning him the middle finger from  
Mickey and an elbow in his ribs from Tim.

Iggy stood up from where he was laying on the ground to clink his shot glass against Mickey's.  
The guest-of-honor shrugged his shoulders and poured liquor down his throat, feeling it burn the  
whole way down. He grimaced and leaned back on the couch draping his arm around Mandy's  
shoulders.

"Know what I've been thinking. I don't know why dudes think gay guys are weak ass pussies,"  
Mickey mused, "It takes a badass to take a huge cock."

"Here, here!" Tim agreed enthusiastically, much to the delight of Selena who shrieked with  
drunken laughter.

"Pussies are strong as hell, dumbass," Mandy stated matter-of-factly, "So maybe they actually  
mean it as a compliment."

"You couldn't do it," Mickey said sitting forward a bit so he could catch Iggy's eyes.  
His brother rolled them immediately and put the pillow his head was resting on over his face,

"You're fuckin' with my buzz," his muffled voice groused.

"So, when we're talking huge, do you mean like porn star huge or like average guy huge," Olivia  
tried to clarify, clearly very invested in the topic at hand.

"I mean fucking huge," Mickey spat back, "Y'know I didn't think I was gay. Never thought that. I  
mean, I loved shoving stuff up my ass, but I wasn't into guys. No crushes or any dumb shit like  
that."

"Anybody need anything?" Iggy asked scrambling to his feet, "I'm gonna go into the kitchen and  
kill myself real quick."

"Get me a glass of wine and fucking man up," Selena responded, instantly getting a high five from  
Mandy. She sat back pretty pleased with herself after earning a bit of positive attention from her  
sister-in-law.

"Go on, king," Tim prompted as Iggy high tailed it out of the room, "Tonight's your night. Share  
your truth."

"Do you get like, more stereotypically gay the more wasted you get, Moe?" Mickey chided.  
His friend shrugged, "I mean, probably. Go on!"

"Never had a crush until I met him, fucking ballsy asshole with a face full of freckles," Mickey  
reminisced, the smile on his face reflecting the nostalgia he felt.

"Too bad he had a girlfriend," Mandy teased leaning over to twist her brother's nipple. He yanked  
her hair hard, drawing a yelp out of her lips and a smack to his chest.

"He was more freckly?" Selena asked her voice dripping with wonder, "That's so fucking cute."

"You better step off my man," Olivia joked, garnering her the single most chill-inducing glare she  
had ever seen from Mickey.

Mickey heard the door open and he narrowed his eyes at Mandy, "Everyone's already here. Who  
else you'd invite?"

"You think I really listened when you told me no stripper?" Mandy asked, breaking into a  
perfectly maniacal laugh.

"No, fucking way," Mickey jumped up from the couch, finger pointed at his sister in warning. He  
felt his body sway and was pretty sure the room was moving, only to realize a few seconds later  
that he was being nonsensical and may, in fact, 'wiggy wiggy wasted.'

There was a chorus of "Awww's" when Mickey's face positively lit up at the sight of his fiancé  
walking into the room, "Galllleeeeeerrrrr?!" He slurred.

"Was that supposed to be Gallagher?" Ian asked with a laugh, wrapping his arms around Mickey  
who had thrown himself onto the redhead almost instantaneously.

"Fuck, isn't this 'sposed to be bad luck?" Mickey asked resting his hand on Ian's cheek, staring  
into Ian's glazed eyes.

"Our luck has always been shitty and we still got here," He replied with a grin, pressing his lips  
against Mickey's.

Mickey kissed him back, the rest of the room falling away, "This mean you're coming home  
tonight?" He asked hopefully, once they parted.

"Mmmhmm," Ian confirmed, thinking that the goofy smile on Mickey's face was pretty much the  
best thing he'd seen in a while, "Sit down."

Mickey sat back on the couch and held his arms out indicating that Ian should sit down on his lap.

"Drunk Mickey, is a touch-feely, Mickey," Selena teased taking the wine that Iggy got her out of  
her husband's hand and shooting him a dirty look, "Say hi to Ian."

Iggy nodded towards Ian, who looked back at him with his lips pursed, "You may want to go  
hang out in the other room or something."

"Fuck off this is my house, asshole," Iggy spat back sitting on the arm of Selena's chair. She  
smacked his leg.

Mandy laughed and shrugged at Ian, "His choice. Go time." She signaled to Olivia, who had  
hooked her phone into speakers, to turn on the song Ian had requested. The beat filled the room  
and Mickey looked around confused, "Told you I was gonna get a stripper," Mandy informed him  
licking her lips and letting out a howl as Ian began to move his body to the beat.

"No, no, no," Mickey said shaking his head vehemently, his face turning bright red.

"Yes, yes, yes," came the chorus of disagreement from every other person in the room but Iggy  
who hightailed it the fuck out of there at the speed of light.

Ian smiled at Selena and moved in close to her, "Sorry," He said grabbing the wine glass out of  
her hand and chugging the contents quickly. The familiarity of his audience was charging up his  
nerves.

"No, hun, you're good," Selena assured him, "You need more or..." She offered, looking like she  
was about to smash the grapes herself if he asked her to.

He gave her his flirty grin, more specifically his White Swallow flirty grin, in character, ready to  
go, "Nah, I'm good. Thanks."

Ian licked his lips, tasting the tartness of the wine, and focused his eyes intently on Mickey who,  
amid all of his protests, was readjusting his pants as he watched Ian's hips sway. Pulling his t-shirt  
off slowly he began to roll his body.

Mickey knew that body, though he couldn't help but recognize that out there on display-all of his  
muscles flexing, defined by his movements, Ian looked so good that he was almost inhuman. The  
redhead was in the best shape he had ever been in, body cut up in and hard.

He kicked off his sneakers, stuck his ass out, and unhurriedly peeled his workout pants down.  
There were a few gasps and squeals in the room at the sight of his package pronouncing itself in  
those little green shorts, but the wine had gone straight to his head and all he fucking cared about  
was one reaction. From the lustful look on his fiancé' face and the way he was biting his lips in  
anticipation of what was to come, Ian could tell he was all in.

Ian moved in closer to Mickey and when he was within reach, Mickey grabbed him by the back  
of the thighs, pulling him down onto his lap. Ian dipped his head down as he ground down on  
Mickey's lap in time with the music. Mickey leaned in to press his lips against Ian's ear, "You  
don't dance on anyone else. You hear me. Mine. 'm not fucking around, Ian. Mine."

"Here for you," Ian assured him turning his head so that he could catch Mickey's lips with his  
teeth. He pulled his full pout away from his gum line, and then let it go regretfully so he could  
slide his tongue against Mickey's bottom teeth. He wanted to be everywhere, enrapture him. One  
of Mickey's hands moved up to the back of Ian's head so he could bring him in impossibly closer  
and shove his tongue deep into the redheads mouth.

Ian wasn't sure if his body was still moving, he wasn't even sure if he was actually breathing, all  
he knew is he was kissing Mickey and it was one of the fucking hottest kisses they'd ever shared;  
rosy tongues tangled up with each other, needing to taste, lap, devour.

"This shit is better than porn, no joke," Olivia exclaimed, her voice reminding Ian and Mickey that  
they were in the Milkovich house, in the living room, surrounded by friends and family.

"Shhhh," Sam and Tim hissed in unison and Mandy smacked her friend for good measure.  
Though the sight of Ian and Mickey practically fucking on the couch was a little strange for her to  
see, she found herself focusing on how insanely hot Ian's body was and how head-over-heels in  
love her brother was.

"I'm dying, y'all. I'm not even kidding. I'm not gonna make it," Selena whispered watching as Ian  
rolled his body on Mickey's lap, periodically grabbing his lips once again and kissing him hotly.

Their eyes were burning into each other's, focus and attention locked. Lips on teeth, pulling, hands  
all over each other's bodies, perfect synchronization of hip movements and pelvic tilts, low moans  
and raspy groans. An intense neediness, punctuated by the ability to actually have one another  
was making them desperate for more.

"I know them haters talkin', always had us very wary, on the 35th of Nevuary," Ian rapped softly  
into Mickey's ear as he rubbed his ass over Mickey's bulging hard on, "You love the way I'm  
turnt, after all the money you earned still show daddy what you learned." He emphasized a certain  
word with his tongue hot in Mickey's ear.

"Daddy, huh?" Mickey whispered back, raising his eyebrows. He watched as Ian slid down his  
body so that he was on knees on the ground in front of the couch. Ian smirked up at him, every bit  
as naughty as he felt. He laid a fat lick on Mickey's package on top of his jeans.

"I'm not even kidding," Olivia squawked, her voice 3 octaves higher than it usually was, "Call a  
goddamn ambulance. I'm done."

Selena was nodding along emphatically in agreement.

Mandy shook her head at her friend and burst into laughter when she saw tears forming in Olivia's  
eyes.

"I can't fucking take it," Olivia stated, "I have to go Tindr some guy like 10 minutes ago."  
Ian laughed, rising to his feet and turning around so his back was sliding down Mickey's chest.  
Mickey dug his fingers into Ian's hip bones possessively and Sam gasped at the sight of Ian's very  
obvious hard-on, straining against the overworked shorts that looked like they may split at the  
seams under the force of what they were working to contain.

"I mean," Tim said with a shrug, resting his hand on Sam's leg, "Take it all in. I saw it nightly for  
months."

Mickey and Sam both shot him a dirty look and Tim quickly corrected, "Not like that."

"Fucking need you," Mickey breathed turning all of his attention back to Ian.

"Get ready fuckers, the big finish," Mandy called, standing up with a bottle of cheap champagne  
in her hands, "Turn around, You'll thank me later," She whispered in Ian's ear.

Ian stood there and gasped when Mandy popped the top of the champagne and let the cool,  
bubbly liquid pour over his shoulders, down his chest, and over his defined abs.

"Lick," Mandy prompted her brother, feeling like she took the cake at being the best -fucking-best  
man on Earth.

"Mandy!!!" Olivia shrieked, before laying down on the ground, praying for death.  
Mickey, having not one fuck left to give about the peanut gallery, leaned forward to run long laps  
of his tongue against Ian's body, getting as much of the champagne as he could while Mandy  
continued to pour it.

Ian's breath was hitched in his throat, so fucking turned on, watching Mickey go to work in front  
of him, not wanting to spill a drop.

"Shit, now you guys are wet. You better go in your old room and change, Mick," Mandy said in a  
mocking tone, "I put Ian's bag in there."

Having the excuse to get the fuck out of there and get the fuck on each other, they practically ran  
to the room.

As soon as the door shut behind them Ian was pushing Mickey against it, kissing him hard,  
desperate, "Need you, you know that? You know what you do to me?" He asked pausing from  
his assault on his lover's mouth for only long enough to praise him, "You're so fucking hot,  
Mick." He worked on Mickey's neck, licking and sucking at the skin as he unbuckled his pants,  
beginning to tug them off, along with his boxers. Mickey shook the damp clothing down his body  
and stepped out of them, almost tumbling over but Ian was there to steady him. He got his  
bearings and pushed Ian off of him for only long enough to yank his tank top off, before tugging  
the redhead back onto his now naked body.

"Fucking lied to me, Ian," Mickey chided as he laid back on the futon Iggy and Selena had put in  
his old room, "Should mad at you."

"Yeah, are you?" Ian asked with a smirk. He already knew the answer. He could tell that his  
fiancé was good and ready for whatever he was about to give him. Mickey could always take it so  
well; the definition of a power bottom, screaming his way through every fuck and demanding  
more. He didn't need any more luck, being married to Mickey was going to make him the luckiest  
guy in the world.

"Not when you look like that," Mickey replied licking his lips like Ian was a piece of steak and he  
was a ravenous lion, "Come the fuck over here," He demanded reaching his arms up to call Ian  
towards him.

"Everyone knows what we're doing," Ian warned him as he made his way over to join Mickey on  
the futon.

"They can't even imagine how good we do it," Mickey told him, licking down his body and  
tasting the remnants of the champagne, "This body, man. Never looked better." Mickey loved to  
feel the bulge of Ian's muscles under his skin, be held by the strength of his body. He loved that  
Ian felt like a man, a strong dominating force. He wasn't a submissive guy, not in the least, but  
fuck if he didn't love getting thrown around by his fiancé, held down by his big hands, hammered  
by his powerful cock. It was in times like these when he was so keyed up and ready to go, that he  
liked when Ian was rough with him, domineering. He wanted to give in to Ian's demands, be  
taken.

"Mmm, turn you on. My body? Gets you hard," Ian asked pulling off his little green shorts slowly,  
allowing his cock to spring out, standing straight and proud in the air.

"Live my life hard for you, Gallagher," Mickey replied almost salivating at the sight of him.

"Oh yeah," Ian teased standing close enough to Mickey that he could trace the curves of his  
lover's lips with the tip of his dripping cock, "Want this?"

Mickey nodded his head, got to his knees on the futon so Ian could have a better angle, and  
opened his mouth eagerly, ready.

Ian pressed the slit of his dick against the tip of Mickey's tongue. "Gonna give you a little taste,  
you like that?"

"More," Mickey demanded opening wider, sticking his tongue out further.

"You want this?" Ian questioned slapping his heavy cock against Mickey's waiting tongue. He  
could hear the brunet moan with anticipation, a small amount of saliva dripping out of his mouth.

Ian laughed low and sultry, "You're drooling for it, baby."

"C'mon, man," Mickey practically whined, growing impatient. The foreplay of the lap dance and  
all that had followed was getting to him, and he needed Ian....now, "Give it to me."

"What do you want, Mick? Want to hear you say it," Ian prompted tracing Mickey's lips again,  
leaving a sticky trail behind.

"Mmmm, Please," Mickey muttered trying to catch the teasing tip with his outstretched tongue,  
"Need it."

"Want do you want?" Ian repeated, guiding the head of his dick to the tip of Mickey's tongue  
again. He pressed against the with a good bit of pressure before lifting up and stretching a rivulet  
of precum from Mickey's tongue to his cock. Mickey curled his tongue so he could try to catch it  
all, "You call me a cum slut, but nobody loves cock more than you," Ian stated with a laugh, "you  
know that?"

"Only yours," Mickey said sticking his tongue back out in anticipation, "Gonna show you how  
much."

"That sounds good," Ian crooned, pumping his dick a few times as he looked at his fiancé's hot,  
wet mouth, more than ready for him, "Tell me."

"Fuck my face," Mickey said softly falling off of his knees so he could lay his back against the  
futon and rest his head on the arm. It felt good to lay down, his head was spinning from Ian and  
from the copious amounts of alcohol he had consumed, "Like you were doing before. Please."

"You liked that?" Ian asked hovering over him, knees straddled by Mickey's ear, "Think you can  
take what I wanna give to you?"

"Know I can," Mickey assured him, grasping tightly into Ian's bare ass cheeks and pulling him  
forward.

"Not gonna stop until I shoot my load down your throat, Mick," Ian warned, "Gonna be  
relentless. You gonna take it all?"

"You know I will," Mickey practically growled, "Fucking do it."

Ian lined his cock up to Mickey's mouth and pushed in, inch by inch the way he would if he was  
breaching his ass. He threw his head back and moaned at the feeling of warmth that was  
surrounding him. He started to roll his hips at a slow pace, and Mickey hollowed out his cheeks  
intent on taking all of him.

Ian's cock felt full and heavy in his mouth, weighty and delicious on his tongue. Ian started to  
move quicker, push in deeper, letting the tip of his dick hit the back of Mickey's throat. The brunet  
was focusing on Ian's taste, willing himself not to gag.

Just as he said he would, Ian started to drive in more brutally and Mickey felt moisture gather in  
his eyes as he tried to keep himself together.

"You ok?" Ian asked breathless, continuing his pounding. His fingers were pulling at Mickey's  
hair, guiding his head back and forth on him.

"Mmmmm," Mickey moaned around his cock, rubbing his hand on Ian's ass to assure him.

"Good," Ian groaned, "That fucking mouth, baby, takes it as good as your ass. Gonna fuck that  
ass so nice when we get home. You want that. Want me to fuck your ass real nice."  
Mickey just hummed, but Ian prompted him to shake his head. As he did he pulled Ian in  
impossibly deeper, and the redhead continued to fuck his face feeling his balls slap rhythmically  
against Mickey's chin.

Mickey tugged at his dick at a similar pace, wondering how the fuck his ass took a beating from  
Ian's cock on the regular. He was close, his hands sticky and wet with his excitement.

"Ready for it? I'm gonna fucking fill you up," Ian panted feeling his hips stutter as a familiar fire  
spread through his groin.

With a final tilt of his pelvis, and hands pushing Mickey's head forward on him, Ian shouted,  
emptying himself down Mickey's throat.

Mickey didn't have to swallow because Ian had pushed deep enough in to bypass the reflex. His  
lover shuddering on top of him pushed him over the edge and he came all over his hand with a  
cry.

"Clean me up," Mickey sighed, watching as Ian moved down his body eager to oblige. He closed  
his eyes, loving the sensation almost as much as he loved the fact that Ian would be holding him in  
bed later that night; that he didn't have to sleep without him.

Chapter Two: Wedding Part I

Ian couldn’t remember a time that he had woken up happier. Sunlight was streaming past their  
kinked up blinds and washing their bedroom in a golden glow. It was already hot as hell in the  
shitty apartment and Mickey’s limbs were warm and sticky with sweat as they draped around him.  
Their comforter had been kicked to the floor hours ago and the sheets beneath them were rumpled  
and damp. He could feel a discarded tube of lube digging into his lower back and his mouth was  
parched. In all actuality he was incredibly uncomfortable but, fuck, he was blissed out. He  
snuggled his face into the crook of Mickey’s neck, inhaling.

“The smelling, Gallagher, c’mon now,” Mickey bemoaned quietly, the smile evident in his voice.  
He complained about it, but he couldn't deny that he found it endearing that Ian was so obsessed  
with him. It reminded him of when they were younger, when Ian would chase him around like a  
puppy demanding attention. He'd give Ian an inch and the redhead would beg for the other 5 1/2.  
Ian would mercilessly flirt with him, causing both of their cheeks to blush regardless how much  
Mickey had tried to control it. Ian would give him the goofiest grins and the gayest shit would  
happen to him. Back then he chided himself for his racing heart and sweaty palms. He couldn't  
have a crush on a boy; worse yet, fall in love with a boy. But Ian made him love him, with his  
stubborn streak and dumb jokes, his dreams and attitude.

“You get me high. I swear," Ian uttered lips still pressed against Mickey’s soft skin, “make me feel  
so high. My addiction.”

Mickey didn’t respond. Instead, he let his fingers tangle in Ian’s hair and his mind wander through  
their relationship.

They laid silent for a while, Mickey lost in memories and Ian lost in Mickey. The redhead's eyes  
were closed, his nose and lips rested gently on Mickey's skin.

As if he was sparked by realization about the magnitude of the day, Ian interrupted their reverie by  
popping up to a seated position and stating, "Gonna marry the hell out of you today."

“You better,” Mickey said grinning up at him and intertwining their fingers.

Ian pulled Mickey's hand up to his lips and kissed his knuckles, "Love you."

"Love you, too," Mickey replied and he really fucking meant it. Today more than ever he felt like  
the emotion was reverberating in his bones.

"Put anymore thought into the name change stuff?" Ian asked rubbing Mickey's bicep with his  
free hand. He got away from himself for a moment and murmured, "Shit, you're so hot," as if  
Mickey's physique, face, and being, still took his breath away.

Mickey rolled his eyes with a laugh, "Thought about it and we're not gonna agree."

"I can't be a Milkovich, Mick. Your dad was a fucking nightmare. Not gonna share a name with  
him," Ian said shaking his head, "You could be a Gallagher. What did Gallaghers ever do to  
you?"

Mickey just stared at his fiancé, not even wanting to dignify the question with a response. Their  
eyes bore into one another, neither of them wanting to break first.

"Fuck," Ian moaned in a completely over-exaggerated way, "What about putting them together  
like we talked about. Milkogher or Gallavich?"

"You're still on that shit?" Mickey asked, busting out in laughter, "Those are the dumbest fucking  
names, man. Mickey Milkogher sounds like I should be wearing a pocket protector and Mickey  
Gallavich? No."

"Why? It sounds good to me. We could hyphenate? Mikhailo Aleksandr Milkovich-Gallagher. Ian  
Clayton Milkovich-Gallagher."

"It'd be the other way around... and no," Mickey tsked, "We don't gotta decide on it right away.  
The guy at the courthouse told us its separate, so we have time."

Ian sighed, "Fine. I just thought when Tim announced us today, we could know what we are  
gonna be called."

"You worry too much about stupid shit," Mickey informed him, sitting up to kiss Ian's forehead  
and then climb out of bed, "I gotta go. Sorry, didn't think you'd be home and I told Yev I wanted  
to take him to breakfast today, you know, just the two of us. Make him feel a part of things I  
guess."

"Mickey. Listen to me right now," Ian demanded, his eyes burning with intensity, "You never  
ever need to do that, apologize for wanting to be with Yev, never. That's not anything you need to  
be sorry about."

"Alright," Mickey said leaning down, this time to kiss Ian's lips gently. Ian settled back into bed  
and watched as Mickey got ready for breakfast, "Want me to bring you anything?"

"You already know," Ian said with a grin.

Mickey smiled back and went in for one last kiss, "Ok, baby."

Ian wrapped his arms around Mickey's neck and pulled him in for a deeper kiss, taken by the term  
of endearment that his fiancé so rarely used, "Only a few hours until we're married..." Ian crooned  
as Mickey stood back up from their kiss.

"Can't wait," He said earnestly, finding it hard to actually exit the room.

"Go," Ian prompted him, reading the tentativeness on the brunet's face, "I'll see you soon." He  
grabbed his book and glasses off the nightstand, very aware that Mickey was still standing in the  
doorway.

"So you're just gonna lay there with your hot little glasses on, naked, reading a book while I'm  
gone?" Mickey asked raising his eyebrows in interest, "Cock just hanging out."

"Pretty much," Ian confirmed with a nod.

"Think you could pay attention to what you're reading if I was suckin' your dick?" He licked his  
lips as his eyes pulled Ian apart. He thought he saw his fiancé's member actually twitch at the  
suggestion.

"You need to stop talking about my cock and go eat breakfast with your son.," Ian tisked knowing  
that if he didn't get Mickey out of the room, quickly, he would lose all resolve to do so.

"Fuck. You used to be fun. What's wrong with fun, right?" Mickey teased, shaking his head in  
mock disgust as he turned to leave the shitty apartment.

The walk to Svetlana's felt longer than usual. It was only 9am but it was already hot as hell. He  
resented the fact that he'd be wearing long pants a button down in a few hours. Maybe he could  
convince Ian that they should change after the ceremony so they wouldn't sweat their balls off.  
He'd work on that.

When he approached the Ball-Fisher house he saw Yev sitting on the stoop, "Hey, man. You  
ready?"

"Yeah, I'm starving," Yev said standing up and brushing off the back of his basketball shorts.  
Mickey had seen him last week, but he couldn't help but notice that he looked older; his face a  
little thinner, shoulders slightly broader. He'd be ten in four months. Mickey had been scared of  
him for nearly a decade; terrified by the consequences of his creation, unnerved by what the fuck  
to do with a newborn, afraid that so much time spent apart would make the kid hate him, and  
petrified that he'd be a father like his own to Yev.

"What're you gonna get?" He asked as they made their way to Patsy's.

"Grilled cheese," Yev replied, "Gonna tell them to make it extra gooey.

"Who the fuck gets grilled cheese for breakfast?" Mickey chided, playfully knocking his elbow  
into Yev's arm.

Yevgeny shrugged and gave him a small smile, "It's just bread and cheese, don't see why not."

"Do it," Mickey said pulling a cigarette out of the pack in his pocket, "Listen," He cleared his  
throat. He was going to wait until they got to the restaurant to talk to him, but it seemed easier this  
way, not having to look him in the eye. He didn't want to lose his resolve, "I'm glad you're comin'  
today."

Yev nodded.

"Gonna be weird for you at all? Seeing your old man marry a guy?" Mickey asked tentatively,  
admonishing himself for fearing the answer, fearing Yevgeny. He brought the cigarette to his lips  
and inhaled the nicotine, imploring it to calm him down. It was impossible to imagine, as a kid of  
the South Side himself, what it would have been like for his dad, or any dude he knew, to be gay,  
let alone get married to a man. He was out. He was proud enough, but it didn't stop him from  
sporadically reflecting on just how hard it was to get there, how strange it was to be there.

"I don't care that you're gay," Yevgeny said simply, "So it's not gonna be weird."

"I'm gonna be kissing Ian. You've never seen me kiss him and I'm probably gonna kiss him a lot  
today," Mickey informed his son, nervously rubbing his nose with his knuckle.

"I've seen you kiss plenty of times," He told his father matter-of-factly.

"The fuck you have," Mickey objected, running through a Rolodex of moments in his mind trying  
to find one that Yev may be referencing.

"I have," Yev replied, "When I'm over you guys always kiss in the kitchen 'cause you think I can't  
see."

"But you can...?"

"Mmmhmm," Yev nodded.

"And you still don't care?" Mickey asked carefully.

"Still don't care," Yev confirmed. And that was that.

*

They decided that walking down an aisle to each other felt wrong, neither one of them was being  
given away; they'd already given themselves to each other long ago. So they talked to their guests  
in the pavilion, which was surprisingly secluded and hidden among trees, until Tim cleared his  
throat and called for everyone's attention. Ian and Mickey walked up to join him at the head of the  
space and everyone else sat down on picnic benches. When they arrived, Mickey had been taken  
aback by the sight of their friends and family all gathered together. He wasn't expecting as many  
people. He knew he should have, of course Ian had a big family, but he was floored by how many  
supporters he had on his own. He hated to admit it but looking at Mandy, Yevgeny, Svetlana,  
Iggy, Selena, Sam, Olivia, Kev, Veronica, Amy and Gemma all sitting at a table, there for him,  
made him feel pretty damn good.

"You ready?" Tim asked them quietly. They were gazing at each other completely overwhelmed  
by how new this felt, how raw. Mickey could feel his chest tightening with nerves, emotions, and  
love. They were doing this. Minutes had turned to days, days to weeks and weeks to years, and  
they all led up to this moment, these words. It was a confirmation of all they had painstakingly  
constructed so many years ago; devotions had been broken, promises battered and weathered but  
they had built their relationship stronger in the wake of destruction. They both knew that they had  
to suffer through that to get this. They were flooded with gratitude that they were standing in front  
of friends and family, having survived it all, ready to take on the future, together.

"Before we get started, I wanted to speak a little bit about Mickey and Ian. I had the unique  
opportunity to experience their relationship as an observer before I got to know them as a friend  
and I have to say that it was life-altering experience for me," Tim began.

"Oh, fuck," Mickey murmured shaking his head at Tim's words, "Life-altering?"

"Shhh," Ian hushed with a light laugh. Tim had always had a flair for dramatics. He looked at  
their friend and nodded a bit to prompt him to continue. He grasped onto Mickey's hands,  
intertwining their fingers so he could ground the brunet, who was clearly uncomfortable. Ian  
couldn't help but notice how handsome Mickey looked and it took everything in him not to dip  
down and kiss his pouty lips. The grey button down shirt he was wearing made his eyes look even  
more blue, which Ian didn't think was possible. He was weak, unable to stand it any longer he  
leaned down to gently brush his lips against Mickey's. He could hear a few 'Aww's from their  
guests, but he didn't do it for them. Mickey bit his lower lip and reached his hand around to cradle  
the back of Ian's head so he could pull him back down for another one.

Tim cleared his throat again to indicate he wanted their attention, "I've never seen a love like  
theirs," Tim continued, nonplussed by Mickey's sigh of annoyance, "When they look at each other  
there are bolts of electricity. They could be across the room and you can feel the magnetic force  
between them."

"Star Wars?" Mickey mouthed to Ian, crinkling up his nose. Ian's lips split into a large smile and  
be squeezed Mickey's hand in reassurance.

"Mickey may kick my ass if I pontificate any further, but I'll leave it at this. We'd all do very well  
to find a love like Ian and Mickey's, something as beautiful is rare and if you find it, you grab onto  
it with both hands and never let go." He grinned when he saw that Mickey was quiet and  
reflective at the statement, "So, the couple prepared their own vows, I'll let them take it from here,  
Ian..."

Mickey could feel the sweat on Ian's palms. He was so infrequently nervous and unsure of  
himself, it actually rattled Mickey when Ian lacked confidence.

"Mick, I've loved you since I was 14 years old. I always saw you, beyond everything, I really saw  
you. Nobody loves me like you do, and nobody ever will. You make me want to be better, I look  
at you and think that I want to be half as selfless and caring as you are, half as good," Ian's eyes  
prickled with moisture and Mickey's cheeks flushed, "You're the best person I've ever met. I want  
you to know that I get how lucky I am to have you, to belong to you, have you belong to me. I'm  
the luckiest guy in the world and I'm gonna give you the love you deserve every day, for the rest  
of our lives." He leaned in to kiss Mickey's lips and could feel them quivering slightly against his.

"And Mickey," Tim prompted, his eyes welling with emotion.

"I'm kinda weird about this shit with, you know," He waved off-handedly towards the onlookers,

"an audience... but, I've always loved you, even more than I hated myself. Loving you has been  
the best fucking thing I've ever done," He could feel emotion rising within him and he pulled his  
hands away from Ian's to press the heels of his palms into his eyes, willing the tears not to spill. He  
wasn't going to cry in front of a group of people. No way. Ian gave him a small smile and took his  
hands once he dropped them, eyes dry, "Ian, what you and I have makes me free. I know we don't  
have much money and shit like that, but we have each other and that feels like enough. Just want  
you to know that I'm always gonna take care of you. Sickness and health, man. I'm not scared of  
that. Thick and thin. I love you." He could hear sniffling in surround sound and as quickly he  
glanced at their guests, he realized that there were only six dry eyes in the pavilion and they all  
belonged to the under ten faction, "Fuck," He mumbled looking into Ian's crying, green eyes,

"Should've just gone with suck my dick, right?," he whispered with a smirk.

"Shut the fuck up," Ian laughed wetly, with a rattling snuffle.

"Fucking snot nosed, man," Mickey chided softly, rubbing Ian's nose with the back of his hand.

"That's gross," Ian protested with a grimace, trying to stop his tears.  
Mickey looked at Tim who was dabbing his eyes with a page of the Bible he had insisted on  
bringing, "We good or you trying to make another lake?"

Tim took a deep inhale, steeling himself so he could keep his voice from wavering as he ended the  
ceremony, "By the power vested in me by the great state of Illinois and getordained.com I now  
pronounce you married, you may kiss."

"C'mere, Gallagher," Mickey crooned, sinking the fingers of both of his hands into Ian's hair and  
pulling him towards his lips. The kiss was hungry and probably more intense than they had  
intended for the occasion, with a little too much tongue to make it decent for watching eyes. It was  
passionate, delicious and as pure as it was wicked, just so perfectly them. Neither Ian nor Mickey  
was sure how long they'd been kissing, but when they heard the hiss of beer cans opening, they  
know the party had begun.

Chapter Three: Wedding Part II

It wasn't uncommon for Ian and Mickey to be touching. Whether it was hands on naked bodies in  
private or any contact they could get in public, they craved the physical connection. Though it  
wasn't a conscious decision, they had long since realized that space wasn't something they needed.  
Despite the fact that the afternoon was absolutely sweltering, they couldn't get close enough to  
each other. They'd traded their button downs and slacks for t-shirts and shorts, feeling much more  
comfortable than they had prior. Ian was sitting on a picnic table with his legs on either side of  
Mickey, who was sitting on the bench below him, drinking a beer, and resting his elbows on Ian's  
thighs. Instead of cooling down with a can himself, Ian had decided to stick to water, wanting to  
keep himself good and hydrated for the insane amount of fucking he planned to do that night.  
Over the course of their relationship they'd had a ton of sex. They'd fucked in practically every  
way possible, on any available surface, always wanting to try something different to get their  
partner off. Regardless of how experimental they were with positions, location, or toys, there was  
one type of sex they could never have before that day; married sex.

He leaned down and pressed a kiss on Mickey's cheek, prompting his partner to turn his head and  
part his lips. Ian craned his neck a little further so he could slot their mouths together. It had been a  
couple hours since they'd exchanged their vows and as much as they enjoyed the company of their  
family and friends, they were mostly enjoying each other. They were watching as their guests, all  
various shades of wasted, danced on what had become a makeshift dance floor in the middle of  
the pavilion. Muffled and crackly music was blaring out of the old boom box Debbie had thought  
to bring at the last minute.

"Want another?" Carl asked holding out a plate full of burgers to Ian and Mickey.

They both nodded and grabbed one.

"Where'd you learn to cook like this, man?" Mickey mumbled through his full mouth, "Fucking  
badass burger."

"We do a lot of grilling on the base," Carl said placing the plate on the table and sitting down next  
to Mickey.

"Hear you been doin' a lot of something else on base, too," Mickey teased, earning him a slap  
upside the head from Ian, "Ow, fuck asshole," he groused digging his finger into the redhead's  
knee.

Carl laughed, not phased, "Actually he's the one that's doing most of the doing."

"You don't say," Mickey said raising his eyebrows, impressed, "Smart kid."

Carl was about to reply with a dirty quip but quickly shut his mouth when Yev approached.

"You alright?" Mickey asked him, sitting up a little straighter, "You want a burger?"

"Was gonna ask Carl if he'd make me another grilled cheese," Yev said glancing at Carl and  
biting his lip.

Ian grinned at the familiarity of the tick.

"Yeah, man, of course," Carl replied jumping up like he was called to 'attention.'

"You and these grilled cheeses.:" Mickey shook his head. "The burgers are  
good, don't you ever just want a nice chunk of beef?"

"Who needs beef when you got cheese?" Yev retorted with a small smirk.

"Yev clearly doesn't have the same appreciation for meat that you do, Mick," Ian taunted, his play  
on words flying right over the kid's head, but landing squarely on Mickey's. His partner glared at  
him with the heat of a thousand suns behind his eyes, "Good protein and all that shit," he  
continued giving Mickey a 'duh' face.

"Cheese has like 9 grams of protein in a slice," Yevgeny informed Ian, "So if you have two slices  
that's like 18 grams of protein, which isn't so bad."

"Yeah, I like cheese a lot, too. I taught Carl how to make those grilled cheeses, so I could make  
them for you sometimes," he offered, "If that'd be ok?"

"That'd be ok," Yev said with a nod. Ian would have to ask Carl how exactly he made them  
before he headed back to Texas, "So you don't dance?" he asked Mickey.

"Nah, not for me," He shook his head and took a swig of his beer, "I see you out there cutting' a  
rug though."

Yev shrugged, "All the girls wanna dance with me, I guess."

"Not a bad problem to have, right?" Ian joked.

"I'm related to like, all of them," Yev shot back with a strange look. He looked over towards the  
grill, "My sandwich is done." And with that he walked away.

"Fuck," Ian uttered with a sigh.

"Probably should've stopped at grilled cheese," Mickey informed him with a laugh.

"I gotta learn to shut up," Ian relented.

"Been telling you that for years," Mickey reminded him, tilting his head up to ask for another kiss.  
Mandy's voice cut through their mini make out session, "You assholes ever gonna stop sucking  
face?"

"Um, no. We're doing this shit forever," Mickey informed her, wiping his mouth with the back of  
his hand, "Kinda just got married. Not sure if you missed it while you you were curled up in the  
fetal position weeping like a bitch."

"Yeah, so sorry I'm overwhelmed by my happiness for you two, dickbreath," Mandy chided.

Mickey shook his head and gave her the finger.

"Anyway," Mandy said sitting in the table next to Ian, "Got you guys something." She handed Ian  
and envelope and Mickey positioned himself so that he was turned more towards the two of them.

"I'm kinda nervous to open it," Ian smirked tapping the envelope against his hand.

"Fucking do it, dickbreath, junior," Mandy demanded, rolling her eyes.  
Ian tore the paper and pulled out Carlton room key.

"I know you guys used to," She cleared her throat and grinned, "hang out there, so I figured it was  
as good a gift as any. Room 310. It's not the penthouse... but it should be nice."

"Shit, Mandy. This is so awesome. Thank you," Ian exclaimed wrapping her up in a hug.

"Thanks, Mands," Mickey said hugging her next, and holding onto her just a little longer than  
usual.

"Alright, alright," Mandy pulled back, "Don't get all soft on me."

"Bitch, please," Mickey scoffed.

"So, it's ready when you are. If you order room service, that shit's on you I'm not made of  
money."

Ian laughed, "We would never."

Mandy rolled her eyes and shook her head, "And don't even fucking think of opening the mini  
bar," She warned.

"Yeah, yeah, yeah," Mickey agreed, "So you gonna fuck Lip tonight or something? Fucking all  
over each other."

"None of your business," Mandy stated with a shrug.

"Mands, he broke up with Grace like four days ago. He'll get back with her," Ian said matter-offactly.

"Not looking to get wifed up," Mandy informed him.

"You know my brother is an incurable asshole," Ian continued.

"So is mine," Mandy shot back, "and you just married him so...." she winked at them and said  
"have fun" in a sing-songy voice before heading back over to Lip.

"We getting out of here?" Ian asked patting Mickey's ass.

"Um, fuck yes we're gettin' out of here."

With that they made rounds to say their goodbyes. Mickey hugged every Gallagher that tried to  
hug him which shocked Ian, and everyone seemed to be genuinely happy for them, even Lip and  
Svetlana, the latter muttering "what's done is done" as they walked away.  
Their ride on the El was full of stolen kisses and rubbing each other's hard-ons over their shorts.  
Both of them were dying to get to the hotel to consummate their nuptials. By the time they made it  
into the Carlton's elevator, they were both so gone that they didn't give a shit that there was  
another couple riding with them. They were stuck together, mouth sinking into mouth hungrily,  
fingers tangled in hair and crotches rubbing slowly. When Ian let out a low moan, Mickey pulled  
off of him breathless and laughed as Ian dropped his lips to Mickey's neck, still kissing him  
fervently.

"Just got married, so..." Mickey half-explained to wide-eyed couple.

"This is pretty PG compared to the shit that's about to go down," Ian murmured against Mickey's  
skin, causing his partner to laugh even harder. The elevator door opened on the third floor and  
they practically ran to room 310.

The room was smaller than what Ian had been used to at the Carlton, but it was still classy, well  
appointed, and beautiful. Ian almost felt bad that they were going to destroy it. On the small table  
across from the king-sized bed there was a bottle of champagne laying in an ice bucket, a plate full  
of chocolate-covered strawberries with the word "congratulations" written in chocolate below  
them, and an envelope with the 'Mr. & Mr. Milkovich' scrolled on it in careful script.

"Guess it's official, you're gonna be Mr. Ian Milkovich," Mickey said with a grin, kicking off his  
shoes as Ian rolled his eyes and opened the envelope.

"Ian and Mickey," Ian read, "congratulations on your nuptials. We wish you a life full of love,  
laughter and happiness. 'If it is right, it happens-the main thing is not to hurry. Nothing good gets  
away'-Steinbeck. Love, The Carlton (Lilly)."

"Who's Lilly?" Mickey asked as he disrobed.

"Really nice girl that works here. She used to come up to the penthouse and blow lines with me  
when I'd stay here."

"Hmm, who knew coke fiends were romantic as fuck," Mickey laughed.

"Why the hell are you not naked yet?" Ian complained looking at Mickey standing there in only  
his boxer briefs. He walked over and tore his partner's underwear down, "Get on the fucking  
bed."

"Shit, Gallagher. You're not fucking around," Mickey remarked his eyes gleaming with  
excitement. He thought Ian was going to try some romantic bullshit, but with all the anxiety  
surrounding the day, Mickey just wanted to get fucking rocked. His man knew him so well.

"Can't call me Gallagher anymore if I change my name," Ian stated, reaching for the tube of lube  
that was laying on the bed with a red bow on it, "Mandy's fucking awesome." He was about to  
squirt the lube on his fingers but had a better idea, "Hands and knees."

Mickey positioned himself and looked over his shoulder so he could watch Ian shed his clothes,

"Never gonna get over that body, man, fucking eighth wonder of the world."  
Ian grinned at his husband's adoration, "Thought that was my cock? Head down, don't wanna get  
anything in your eyes."

"The fuck are you doin'?" Mickey asked following the directions. He loved when Ian kept him  
guessing. Throughout their relationship they'd had tons of shit to worry about, but sex was never  
one of them. They knew how to fuck.

Mickey heard a loud pop behind him and then felt the cold, fizzy liquid splash off the curve of his  
lower back and stream into his ass crack, "Fuck," he moaned, anticipating what was to come.

"You got to have all the fun at our bachelor party, but tonight... tonight I'm gonna fucking feast,"  
Ian informed him running his tongue between Mickey's cheeks to get a taste of his partner and the  
champagne, "Mmmm, fuck. Taste so good, Mick."

Mickey could feel his knees begin to wobble on the bed as Ian spread his ass apart with his palms  
and turned his chin so he could lick in deeper. He gasped when he felt Ian's tongue breech his  
hole and sighed when he pulled it back out to swirl it around his rim. He continued the pattern  
pushing deeper each time and beginning to rotate his tongue inside of Mickey as he loosened him.

The brunet shuddered when he felt more of the cool liquid rushing down his ass. Ian lapped it up  
eagerly, "Fuck I love you, you nasty motherfucker."

Ian reached his hand up so he could lay a hard smack against his ass. Mickey yelped and Ian's  
muffled voice assured him, "Ain't seen nothing yet. Gonna fuck you in half."

"Fucking prove it then," Mickey insisted pushing back so Ian's tongue fucked into him further.

"You're not ready yet," He poured more champagne onto Mickey and groaned as he caught it in  
his mouth while he traced his tongue around the loosening muscle, "Getting drunk off this ass."

He laid another smack to Mickey's reddening behind feeling the tackiness of the champagne under  
his palm and drawing a grunt out of his partner, "Gotta clean you up."

Mickey heard the top click off the lube and felt two wet fingers push into him. Ian began to scissor  
as he moved his mouth up to Mickey's sticky skin, licking and sucking marks into the alabaster.  
He reached his free hand around and hummed when felt precum leaking off of Mickey's cock. He  
used it to lube up the shaft and started to stroke him as he worked on his other sensitive spots. He  
could feel Mickey's body shaking under him. He dropped off of his elbows letting his cheek rest  
on the plush comforter as his ass remained presented to Ian, "Fuck me. Dying for that fucking  
cock. Please."

Ian dug his teeth into the supple skin particularly hard, loving the way Mickey groaned in  
response, "You want me to give it to you nice and slow, right baby?"

"No. Wanted you to ram the hell out of me," Mickey objected, "You promised you were gonna  
fuck me in half. Want you to do that."

"I promised, huh?" Ian asked pulling his lips of Mickey's ass and raising his eyebrows. He was  
already hard as a rock but he felt himself stiffen further at the sound of the desperation in Mickey's  
voice, "Know what else I promised...?"

"Don't got the attention span for a pop quiz," Mickey snapped, howling when he felt Ian lay down  
another brutal spank.

"You're bad, Mick, you already forgot. Promised I was gonna give you what deserve every day,"  
Ian reminded him sitting up so he could squeeze lube onto his ready cock, "You deserve to get the  
hardest fucking of your life on our wedding night, don't you think?"

"Fuck yes," Mickey agreed eagerly, biting down on his lip and staring up at Ian with passion  
burning in his blue eyes.

"Back up on your elbows," Ian directed, "Not gonna be happy if you're walking ok tomorrow.  
Want it to look like you got my cock shoved up your ass for a week."

"C'mon tough guy. Get the fuck in me," Mickey demanded through gritted teeth.  
Ian lined up with Mickey and pushed into him in one swift motion causing both of them to moan  
intently. Ian was still for a moment, just taking in the sensation of Mickey surrounding him, warm  
and tight, "Can't believe I get this ass for life. I'm the luckiest guy, I swear. Take it so good for  
me."

Mickey started to shimmy his hips a bit, desperate for friction. "Got me so fucking full, baby. Give  
it to me, give me a real good pounding, fucking need it," Mickey pleaded, "c'mon."

Ian started to move, slow at first then building speed with every one of his long, deep thrusts. He  
worked up to a brutal pace that had Mickey's plump ass cheeks quaking at the momentum.

"Yeah, just like that," Mickey praised, his voice reverberating from the motion.

"You like that?" Ian asked, spanking Mickey's ass hard. Mickey let out a guttural grown and  
dropped his head between his shoulders at the delicious pain.

"Fucking love it," He assured Ian, feeling like he could cum at any moment. Between the beating  
that his ass hole was taking and the erotic sound of skin slapping filling the room, he was pretty  
close to gone. Ian grabbed onto brown hair and pulled, causing Mickey to arch his back into the  
yank as his partner plunged into him deeper.

"My fucking husband" Ian groaned slamming into Mickey, his body shaking and overwhelmed  
by the word, what it meant, "know you don't... fuck.. feels good," he gasped as Mickey pushed  
back onto him, "like that, but let me have it right now. Please."

"Call me whatever the fuck you want... shit... as long as you keep..." His voice dropped off to let  
a moan out, "hittin' it like that."

"Fuck it turns me on, my husband," Ian exhaled in disbelief. He grabbed the front of Mickey's  
neck and pulled him up so he was sitting on his cock, still thrusting into him but with more  
shallow pulses, "Makes me wanna cum just saying it."

"Then keep sayin' it."

Ian abruptly jumped out of Mickey and laid down on the bed, "Ride me til you cum. Want you to  
cum all over me. C'mon," He grabbed Mickey's hands and pulled him on top of him. Mickey  
dropped one of Ian's hands so he could guide his cock into his ass but kept the other one  
intertwined with his partners.

Mickey started to roll his hips and Ian tilted his head back on the pillow, overtaken by how  
amazing it felt, how well Mickey rode his cock.

"Fuck, yeah, get it Mick," Ian commended as Mickey panted on top of him, "Wanted this forever,  
you, you're my husband. Holy shit." He clutched onto the sheets as his body was brought  
dangerously close to the edge.

"You like that, huh?" Mickey questioned licking his lips and loving how Ian was unraveling  
underneath him, "Like calling me that."

"Love calling you that," Ian confirmed pulling up to his elbows and pushing his fingers into  
Mickey's mouth so he could suck on them.

Feeling Ian everywhere and tasting himself on his partner's fingers was enough to have him  
teetering over the cliff. He dropped his free hand to his cock and started to jerk it hard. Ian hooked  
his finger down so it was pulling slightly on Mickey's lower lip and the brunet was done, "Gonna  
give it you now, you want it, huh?"

"Fuck yeah, cum for me," Ian said biting his lip in anticipation. He wanted Mickey to feel good,  
but he knew that he was next and he needed the release. It took a split second after his request for  
Mickey to spill all over his stomach with a contented cry, "Off, off," he demanded bucking his  
hips up so his exhausted partner would get off his dick.

"The fuck?" Mickey asked confused, but compliant. As soon as he climbed off, Ian aimed his  
own cock back and shot his load all over his stomach, so he was covered in both of their cum.

"Fucking filthy as hell," Mickey teased with a naughty smirk, clearly loving every minute of it. He  
knew what Ian wanted. Without having to be told, he leaned down so he could lap up a mouthful  
of their jizz. He crawled up Ian's body letting his stomach settle against Ian's messy skin. He  
pressed his lips to his partner's and grinned as Ian's tongue hungrily pushed into his mouth, sighing  
into the kiss, crazy about the taste. Their tongues tangled around the sloppy kiss, getting lost in  
each other's mouth until every drop was gone.

Chapter Four: Wedding Part III

There were times in the past where Ian didn't feel like he truly had Mickey. He eagerly grasped  
onto tiny shards of hope, captivated by the stolen glances and random touches, always wanting  
more. Physically, Mickey had never been afraid to demand what he wanted, but emotionally he  
was always much more tentative.

No matter how much Ian had wondered about Mickey's feelings for him, he was always set at  
ease when they shared a bed. The first time was 13 years ago when Mickey told him he could  
spend the night at his house rather than being at the group home. It was the night before  
everything got fucked. Mickey had already opened himself up to kissing, but everything that night  
felt like another level for Ian. He remembered Mickey falling asleep before him, as far away as he  
could possibly get on his small twin sized bed. Ian was still, not wanting to disturb him, practically  
laying on his hands to stop himself from holding him. It wasn't even ten minutes later that Mickey  
turned over, eyed closed peacefully, deep asleep. It started with his feet, cold skin sliding between  
Ian's calves, seeking the warmth. Then came the arms, solid and strong, becoming gentle as one  
slid across Ian's chest and the other tucked under his pillow. Ian's breath had hitched in in his  
throat, taken aback by the unconscious show of care, the exposure. Mickey had never been able to  
hide himself in his sleep.

The room was dark, indicating that it was sometime in the middle of the night and as usual  
Mickey's body was tangled up in his, connected to every dip and curve that he could cover with  
his limbs. Though half his face was buried in the pillow, Ian could see the sweetest smile on his  
lips which caused an immense wave of love to crash over him. He always wanted this, for Mickey  
to be happy, sated, in love. He wondered if his partner was reliving the day, after all it had been a  
dream. Maybe his smile reflected their vows, the dinner they ate off of silver room service platters  
in their fluffy, white Carlton robes, or the bath they attempted to take in the jacuzzi tub which  
ended up being incredibly unromantic due to Ian's gangly limbs and Mickey's brutal jokes that left  
them both laughing so hard their sides hurt.

He reached up to run his fingers through Mickey's hair which caused his partner to stir, turning  
onto his back and pulling Ian's arm along with him so he was still safely cocooned by his body.  
Ian was overcome with how lucky he was to experience this side of Mickey. Nobody else in their  
lives knew that his man was an actual angel, so soft and loving. Mickey had always  
disproportionately cared for him in their relationship and Ian felt a charge of energy course  
through his body with a profound need to protect his husband. He'd never laugh it off when his  
family insulted Mickey, never allow anyone to speak ill of him in his presence. People had told  
Ian that being married wouldn't change things, that it was just a piece of paper, but it had  
heightened everything for him. He'd made promises to Mickey that he was going to keep, to  
expound upon. Against all odds, they had made it here, to this moment and Ian was never going to  
take Mickey or their journey for granted. He felt overwhelmed with desire to prove it to him and  
found himself climbing on top of Mickey. Ian leaned on one of his arms for balance and lined  
himself up to Mickey's still stretched hole with his other hand, while his partner frowned from the  
loss of touch.

"Shh, I'm right here," Ian whispered reassuringly, "Need you."

Mickey's eyes were still closed but his lips curled up in a grin as he stretched his arms over his  
head pushing away his sleep. He let out a soft gasp when he felt Ian enter him, and sighed at the  
sensation of being full. Ian's body was laying heavy on his and he had intertwined their fingers  
tightly, their hands resting on the pillow above Mickey's head, "Feels good," Mickey murmured as  
Ian slowly rolled his hips into his, making sure his cock went as deep into his partner as possible  
with every movement.

Ian's head was laying next to Mickey's on the pillow, his face buried into the crook of his lover's  
neck, lips resting gently against his skin. The sound of Ian's soft panting went straight to Mickey's  
cock, coaxing it to life, waking him up fully. He groaned quietly at the sensation of Ian's ab  
muscles rubbing rhythmically against his shaft.

"I love you so much, Mick. So much. Always gonna love you," Ian promised, pulling his hands  
away from Mickey's so he could place his thumbs beside each of Mickey's ears and cradle the rest  
of his fingers around the back of his head. His green eyes were boring into Mickey's blues with so  
much intensity that Mickey lost his breath for a moment. He wrapped his arms around Ian's neck  
and brought him down to his lips for a kiss. It was languid and deep just the way Ian was making  
love to him. He hauled a moan out of his partner when he began to suck on his tongue, moving  
his mouth up and down on it like he was blowing his cock.

Ian pulled back when he couldn't get a full enough inhale much to to Mickey's dismay, "Here,"  
Ian pressed two of his fingers into Mickey's mouth so he could suck, earning the redhead a hum of  
approval from his partner. He dropped his forehead so it was resting against Mickey's and the  
brunet hooked his arms under Ian's armpits and rested his hands on his shoulder, drawing him in  
impossibly deeper, "So perfect for me."

The room was still and quiet save some whispered devotions and breathy moans of pleasure.  
Mickey was staring up at Ian who was softly grunting above him, when he an undeniable urge,

"My..." He began, licking his lips, preparing his mouth to speak, "love."

Ian nodded pressing his lips against Mickey's gently before rubbing his nose against his partner's.

"My..." He started again, taking a deep breath, "husband." The word was tentative, unsure, as if  
he had said it to just to see how it felt rolling past his lips, "My husband," he repeated more  
assured.

"Your husband," Ian confirmed trying to hold back the tears he felt prickling in his eyes. He  
swallowed his emotions hard, not wanting to overwhelm Mickey. It was the single most beautiful  
moment of his life, but he didn't want to pressure his partner to use a title he wasn't comfortable  
with. He was dying to hear it again and again, but on Mickey's terms, "So proud to be your  
husband, Mickey."

"I love you," He said pulling Ian down so he could bury his face in his collar bone and press his  
lips against the tattoo bearing his name, "Always been so in love with you, y'know that?"

"Always?" Ian asked with a sigh as he angled up to press the tip of his cock against Mickey's  
prostate.

"Oh shit, right there," Mickey groaned as Ian delivered shallow pulses against the sensitive spot,  
"Just like that. Gonna make me cum, baby."

"Mmm," Ian purred his approval continuing to work Mickey in the way he knew he loved.  
Mickey's body thrummed under him as he noiselessly spilled his seed between them. Ian took the  
pressure off of Mickey's prostate, continuing to move in and out of his relaxed hole.

"Got as long as you need," Mickey whispered pushing the feeling of overstimulation away and  
closing his eyes so he could take the slight discomfort for his husband.

"Too good to me," Ian praised dropping his forehead to Mickey's chest and picking up his pace,  
not wanting to take advantage of Mickey's good will.

As his cock pumped into Mickey he was enraptured by the scent of his skin and comforted by the  
feel of his hands rubbing his back. His moaning reached an audible level as he filled Mickey up  
with his cum. His body was tingling as rolled off of his partner, nerves left dancing from the  
intensity of their connection.

As soon as he was laying back on the bed, Mickey was snuggled up against him, a bundle of  
warmth and limbs.

"I loved that," Ian remarked softly, kissing Mickey's forehead.

"Was really good," Mickey agreed sleepily.

"Amazing, but I mean when you called me your husband, I really loved that"  
Mickey laid quietly for a moment, not sure how to respond. He settled with, "I really love you,"  
and then yawned as he drifted back to sleep.

Chapter Five: Chocolate Chips

Ian woke up with his head cradled by a luxurious feather pillow and his body swathed in soft as  
suede bedsheets. It would have been the perfect way to wake if Mickey was still folded over him.  
Instead his partner was standing by the bed, looking insanely adorable wrapped in the Carlton's  
white robe while speaking into the room phone in a hushed but aggravated tone.

"So, you want me to pay $24 for a plate of flour and buttermilk and you don't got any fucking  
chocolate chips to toss in there?" He huffed. He paused, his eyes catching Ian's looking at him. He  
gave him a little shrug and mouthed 'sorry' for waking him, "No, I don't want 'em anyway." He  
listened to the voice on the other line and grumbled a frustrated whatever," before hanging up the  
phone.

"C'mere," Ian said lifting his arms as an invitation for Mickey to crawl into them, which he did,  
after kissing Ian's tattoo tenderly, "So grumpy."

"Wanted to get you what you like," Mickey said simply, tracing his fingertips across the skin of  
Ian's strong arm.

"I like you," Ian crooned kissing the top of his head.

"Fuck you're dumb," Mickey said with a light laugh. As much as he complained about the  
redhead's corniness, he found it incredibly charming. He lifted his chin so he could look in Ian's  
eyes, "Just like?"

Ian leaned down to rub his nose against Mickey's sweetly and then pressed his mouth against his  
partner's for an all lip kiss, "Fucking love you," He corrected brushing his fingers through  
Mickey's hair.

"You better," Mickey said snuggling into Ian.

"You'd be an awesome rich guy, by the way," Ian stated.

"Hmm. Why?"

"Throwing a hissy over chocolate chips like that's such a big problem to have," Ian teased with a  
grin, "You'd be all, 'Jeeves bring me my coffee' and you'd spit it out in his face if it wasn't at  
exactly the right temperature."

"Fuck off," Mickey scoffed with no venom behind the statement, "Who the fuck is Jeeves  
anyway?"

"It's a good butlery name," Ian replied plainly.

Mickey groaned, "What am I gonna do with you, man?"

"Take me to Patsy's," Ian suggested rubbing Mickey's back, "so I can have my chocolate chips."

"Knew my princess wouldn't be happy..." Mickey taunted, pinching the spot under Ian's ribs that  
always caused him to laugh hysterically.

"Stop, stop!" Ian howled between fits of laughter while Mickey tickled him mercilessly.

They wrestled around on the bed, intermittently trying to pin or kiss each other until they were  
both tired and breathless.

"Patsy's?" Ian asked turning his head to the side so he could smirk at Mickey.

"Patsy's," Mickey agreed, grinning back at him.

Though it was difficult to leave the room, their stomachs were growling from a night full of  
serious exertion. Since they didn't have a change, they threw on their clothes from the day before  
and went on the 'El Ride of Shame' to Patsy's.

Fiona greeted them both with huge hugs which didn't surprise Mickey as much as it would have  
prior to yesterday. Ian's sister had cried her eyes out through 90% of the ceremony and spent the  
rest of the afternoon dancing or kissing Ian's face and telling him how happy she was for him. It  
was as if something clicked when she heard them recite their vows, something she should have  
realized long before that day; Nobody would love or care for her brother in the way that Mickey  
Milkovich would. So, her skepticism gave way to relief. When it came down to it, she worried  
about Ian. She wanted what was best for him and she now realized that what was best for him was  
Mickey.

As they sat way too close to each other in the booth, Fiona bragged to co-workers and customers  
alike about how her baby brother just got married to the "love of his life."

"She's bein' too fucking much," Mickey groused, as he forked the last of his pancakes. He glanced  
at Ian's plate and noticed it was empty, so he lifted his fork to his partner's mouth to give him the  
final bite.

"Mmm," Ian hummed gratefully as he chewed, "I love you." He smacked his sticky lips against  
Mickey's tasting chocolate, syrup and a hint of the cigarette they'd smoked on the way to the diner.  
The kiss was equal parts delicious and dirty, just like their relationship.

"Bills on me," Fiona told them as she cleared their plates, "last time, though, celebration's over,"  
she said with a wink once they pulled apart to thank her.

"So I was thinking we could head over to the pawn shop and see if they had any rings for cheap,"  
Ian said as they exited Patsy's. It was just as hot as the day before, but overcast, with moody grey  
clouds looming over the city.

"Looks like it's gonna rain," Mickey stated crinkling up his nose.

"You afraid of getting wet now?" Ian teased, smacking Mickey's ass drawing an elbow into his  
ribs from his partner.

"Your ass is expensive, you know that?" Mickey complained heading in the direction of the pawn  
shop with Ian.

"Breakfast was free," Ian reminded him with a grin.

"Yeah, 'cause that's totally equal," Mickey said rolling his eyes and glancing down at a text he'd  
received.

"Fuck you're pissy, Mick," Ian chided, "You woke up on the wrong side of the bed."

"Tired. Annoyed. Mandy and Kev are on my ass about going out tonight. Bastard's still giving me  
shit about not telling him about the bachelor party or whatever," Mickey sighed, shoving his  
phone back in his pocket and yawning.

"It's her last night in town," Ian reasoned, "She and Liv wanna to go to that same club that we  
went to for Iggy's party."

"Good, hope they have fun," Mickey said with an aggravated sniff.

"We had a good time there," Ian replied, "Remember?"

"Mmm yeah, I watched strippers bounce their tits, while you got so wasted that you couldn't get it  
up to fuck me. Great time." The sarcasm was quite evident in his voice.

Ian grimaced, "Oh yeah. C'mon. It'll be fun this time. What's wrong with fun?"

Mickey shot Ian the dirtiest look he could muster, even though there wasn't much behind it, "If  
we're going we gotta take a nap."

"Not tired," Ian said simply pulling the door to the pawn store open.

"If we're going we gotta take a nap," Mickey repeated, raising his eyebrows in challenge.

"We'll take a nap," Ian assured him intertwining his fingers with Mickey's and kissing his  
knuckles. They dropped hands when they approached the counter, "We're looking for wedding  
bands."

The man looked at them over the frame of his reading glasses, "For you?" he asked pointing his  
finger back between them.

Mickey could feel his hackles rise, "Got a problem with that?" He asked biting the inside of his  
cheek and balling his hands into fists.

"We got married yesterday," Ian stated, grabbing onto Mickey's wrist tightly, a warning.

"You did it wrong," The man said opening the case he has been leaning against.

"Fuck's that supposed to mean?" Mickey demanded, losing most of his cool.

"Shhh," Ian whispered.

"Supposed to get the rings before the ceremony," He replied innocently, throwing his hands up in  
surrender. He turned to Ian, "Your husband's on edge."

"Partner," Ian corrected wrapping his arm around Mickey's waist loosely. He felt Mickey exhale  
at the gesture.

The man nodded and pulled out a small tray of wedding bands, "I can give you a deal on anything  
silver. You need to be sized?"

"Yeah, that'd be good," Ian said. The man pulled out his sizing gauge out and figured out their  
sizes.

"These two would work," He said picking up two matte silver bands. They weren't thin, but not  
too thick either, "They're pretty plain and the smaller one has a few dents, but they're sterling. I  
could do $75 for the set."

Ian reached for the dented ring and grabbed Mickey's hand.

"I can do it," Mickey said softly, taking the ring from Ian and sliding it onto his finger. He wasn't  
interested in participating in acts of romance in the middle of a pawn shop. A small grin turned up  
his lips and he held his hand up for Ian to see the ring on his 'U' finger. It fit perfectly.

"You like it?" Ian asked putting the bigger ring on his finger.

"Kinda cool it's a little fucked up," Mickey said with a shrug.

"Like me?" Ian joked with a smirk.

"Stop," Mickey insisted gently. He rested his hand on Ian's cheek and gave him a pat. Usually  
he'd make a joke or take the comment lightly, but in that moment he wanted Ian to know that to  
him, he was perfect. He turned to the salesman, "We'll take them."

*

The club was packed by the time the group arrived. They had pregamed at the Alibi with Kev  
buying all of them an obscene amount of shots, "I'm living life tonight! Wife free. Got both of my  
balls back," He had exclaimed while practically pouring alcohol down everyone's throats.

With his flushed face and sudden obsession with being on Mickey's lap, it was obvious that Ian  
was wasted off his ass. He had practically rode Mickey in the backseat of the cab over to the club,  
prompting Carl and Kev to try to make small talk while Mickey attempted to control him. He  
wasn't feeling much pain either and found himself getting caught up in the moment and Ian's  
mouth more than once. He was pretty sure that he wasn't going to get fucked that night due to the  
effect alcohol mixed with his medication had on Ian's dick, so he was taking what he could get.

"We're going to the vag side," Mandy informed the group, her arms draped over Lip's shoulder,

"Who's with us?"

"The dark side," Mickey shuddered, remembering a stripper's breasts sandwiching his face the last  
time they were there, "No thanks."

"Breaking news, Mickey loves cock," Kev teased loudly trying to hug the shorter man, who  
jabbed his finger in the general vicinity of Kev's belly button, "Uh, I just love you man," he said  
enveloping Mickey in a hug.

"Now do you regret telling me I couldn't kill him?" Mickey asked Ian, raising his eyebrows  
expectantly as he shoved Kev off of him.

"I, for one, see too much tits and puss, I'm gonna stick here, in the asexual area," Kev said  
jovially, "With my new friend Olivia."

"I don't think that it's..," Lip began but sighed when he realized it wasn't even fucking worth it.

"He has two wives already. Don't let him go all Warren Jeffs on your ass," Mandy warned Olivia  
with a laugh while winking playfully at Kev.

"Well, I for one, can't get enough of tits and puss," Iggy said kissing Selena's cheek, "You  
coming, wifey? Scope out some new moves?"

Selena rolled her eyes, letting her husband take her hand and lead her through the doors with Lip  
and Mandy following close behind.

"Everybody here fucks dudes except for me," Kev said looking from Olivia to Carl to Mickey and  
Ian. He looked around the room and called out loudly, "Does anyone want to shove a cock in my  
ass?" The music was so loud that it drowned out his voice leaving him clicking his tongue and  
sighing at the perceived rejection, "Guess I'll drink instead." He tapped on the bar to get the  
bartender's attention and ordered, "5 shots of your shittiest vodka."

"I'll do the honors," Carl said holding up his shot glass, signaling for the others to join him, "As  
Grammy Gallagher used to say 'May the best day of your past be the worst day of your future'  
Here's to Ian and Mick." They all clanked glasses and Mickey swallowed his vodka before  
grabbing Ian's and downing it as well.

"Had to much already," Mickey informed him, grimacing as the vodka burned his stomach lining.

"Had to take one for the team, huh?" Ian teased, leaning down to press his lips against Mickey's,  
tasting the the bitterness of the vodka on his tongue.

"I've known these two dumbasses since they were so deep in the closet they were in fucking  
Narnia," Kev stated as Ian and Mickey kissed.

"You're showing your dad card, man," Carl said with a laugh.

"Always knew they were in love. Could tell by the way they stared at each other across the  
room," Kev said with a nostalgic smile, "Bartenders see everything. People forget you're there

"Having a good walk down memory lane?" Mickey asked wiping his mouth with the back of his  
hand. Drunk Ian was a sloppy kisser.

"Tell me more," Olivia demanded excitedly, "I can't get enough of these two."

"It was kinda funny when Mickey thought he could bring another guy around the South Side.  
That didn't work out so well," Kev laughed.

"Alright, alright, we don't gotta talk about that," Mickey stated, attempting to shut Kev up, seeing  
how his partner's face dropped at the mention of Jake.

"What happened?" Olivia prodded.

"Holy fucking shit," Mickey sighed.

"Wanna dance?" Ian asked him wrapping his arm around Mickey's waist.

"Don't dance," Mickey reminded him. He sorta regretted that at the moment, because he wanted to  
get away from the conversation and Ian looked really fucking good.

"C'mon. If you can fuck, you can dance and I know you can fuck," Ian said lifting his eyebrows  
and licking his lips.

The vodka was hitting his head hard, which was the only reason he relented, letting his partner  
drag him onto the crowded dance floor.

"Love this song," Ian said sliding behind Mickey and dropping his hands to his hips. He started to  
grind against that perfect ass to the beat as Mickey just stood there.

"This guy's yelling at me to put my fucking hands up and I'm having fucking flashbacks. This is  
dumb shit," Mickey complained as Ian attached his lips to the soft skin of Mickey's neck and  
began to suck, "Shit, feels good."

"Rock with me, baby," Ian crooned in his partner's ear, draping his arms over Mickey's shoulders  
so he could feel his broad chest muscles under his black T-shirt.

Mickey didn't move much, just as much as his naturally did with Ian gyrating behind him.

"Push back on me like you do when I'm fucking you," Ian directed, "C'mon."

"That feels much better than this," Mickey stated, only to be surprised by two fingers pushing into  
his mouth. He groaned as Ian moved them in and out, slowly. His hips had an immediate  
response, starting to move slightly as his dick filled up.

"Back it all up on my dick," Ian rapped in his lover's ear, "See it's on tonight. Trying to leave with  
something right. I'm a grown ass man, so shawty you can spend the night."

"Did you just fucking call me, 'shawty'?" Mickey spat, biting down on Ian's fingers and drawing a  
yelp from the redhead, "You're too much, man."

"You love me, though," Ian said continuing to move against Mickey's ass, undeterred.

"I really fucking do," Mickey tsked with an annoyed sigh, pushing back on his partner's cock.

Chapter Six: Churn

"You look really pale, man," Mickey said, resting his hand on the back on Ian's clammy neck and  
looking into his bloodshot eyes, "You gonna make it?"

They were halfway through a luncheon and Ian was feeling the affects of the irresponsible number  
of shots he took the night before. They got home around 3am and that's when the puking began.  
Ian had spent the the rest of the night alternating between being hunched over the toilet and being  
curled up in the fetal position on he bathroom floor. While he threw up, Mickey rubbed his back  
and when he laid down he put a cool washcloth on his forehead. He'd forced him to drink  
Gatorade and eat saltines, which didn't particularly turn out well.

"I drank too much," Ian had told him somewhere around 5:30am, his head resting on Mickey's  
lap.

"Mmmhmm," Mickey agreed, absolutely exhausted. His eyes were closed and his head was  
leaned up against the bathroom wall as his fingers idly played with Ian's hair. He had been pretty  
wasted himself, but became stone cold sober as soon as he heard Ian's retching. He knew there  
was no way he'd be able to sleep without Ian next to him and attempting to get some rest while his  
partner was barfing his brains out in the other room seemed absurd, "Can't drink like that on your  
meds."

"Got caught up," Ian sighed, "Go to bed. You can still get like 3 hours before we gotta go to  
work."

"You comin'? Mickey asked opening his eyes and looking down at Ian's pathetic position.

"Can't," He said, shaking his head slightly. As soon as he moved felt an all too familiar churning  
in his empty stomach, "Fuck," he whined, darting up so he could dry heave over the toilet.

"You're alright," Mickey assured him pushing his hand under Ian's shirt and rubbing his sweaty  
back.

The hours that led up to their work day had gone similarly. The only exception being sometime  
around 8am when Mickey forced Ian to try to eat a little dry toast to, "Soak that shit up."

"Holy crap, you look worse than you did when you got here, Red," Sam stated as he placed his  
tray of plates by the washing station, "and that was pretty freaking bad."

"He's ok," Mickey said protectively, not wanting to draw attention to Ian's rough state, knowing  
that Luca wouldn't take too kindly to how hungover he was.

"Want me to make him some tea or something?" Sam asked Mickey, dropping his voice low as he  
moved closer to the couple.

"Nah, but thanks man, he'll be fine," Mickey replied genuinely. Ian's face was buried in his neck  
and Mickey had his arms wrapped loosely around his waist.

"Like the new bling," Sam grinned tapping on Mickey's ring before heading back out to the floor.

"Bling?" Ian's voice was muffled from mouth being pressed against Mickey's skin, "and you  
didn't tell him to fuck off?"

"I'm worried about you. Wish you would've called out," Mickey said palming the back of Ian's  
head and tucking his chin down to kiss his jawline. He patted his lower back then dropped his  
arms to indicate that Ian should back off. Given the circumstances and the fact that they had been  
given the weekend off, the last thing they needed was to get caught cuddling in the kitchen,

"You're dehydrated. Take this," he handed Ian his water bottle, "go into the bathroom, sit on the  
floor by the toilet and try to sip it."

"People pee on the floor of men's room," Ian stated, smiling weakly at Mickey who rolled his  
eyes.

"You're fucking testing me, Gallagher. It's day two and you're already making me work my  
vows," Mickey teased, giving Ian a quick peck on his chapped lips.

"Don't. I'm gross," Ian protested when Mickey gave him another kiss.

"We eat each other's assholes, man, for fun," Mickey reminded him with a smirk, "Go drink."

As Ian was headed towards the bathroom he was intercepted by Luca, "You got a minute, Ian?"

He asked, eyeing the redhead up and down.

"Um, yeah sure," Ian replied, glancing down at the water he was supposed to be drinking.  
He followed Luca out to the small alley behind the reception hall. It was hot as hell and the sun  
beating down on him wasn't abating his dizziness or nausea. He squinted his eyes at the brightness  
of the daylight and cursed the clouds for taking the day off.

"Listen, I'm gonna be straight with you, you look like complete shit," Luca stated with a frustrated  
sigh, "You can't be around people trying to enjoy their meals when you're looking green around  
the gills. You get what I'm saying?"

Ian nodded and immediately regretting the motion when his queasiness intensified. He swallowed  
a few times, praying that he didn't upchuck in front of Luca, "I'm sorry. I..." He began but was  
cutoff by his boss.

"You got married this weekend. I'm guessing this isn't the flu, ok? I wasn't born yesterday. You  
gotta go home and I'm going to have to write you up for this. If you're sick, you should've called  
in, since we can't allow you around food. If you're hungover, which I'd bet my salary you are,  
you're violating our code of conduct," Luca said. Occasionally they'd all joke around together  
after work and the atmosphere of FIG was relatively light, but Ian's boss was making it clear that  
he meant business.

"I understand. I'm sorry," Ian replied sincerely, "Is this going to impact the days Mick and I took  
off at the beginning of next week?" He shifted uncomfortably. It didn't seem like the right time to  
go there, but Ian had to know.

Luca grinned a little and smacked Ian's arm lightly, "You think I turned into a complete jerk? You  
requested off, you're got it off, ok?"

"Thanks," Ian said trying to smile back but he felt to sick and mortified.

"I have to be honest with you about something," Luca began, his tone turning serious again.  
Ian just wanted the conversation to be over. He wanted to lay on the cold tile of the pissed on,  
public bathroom floor and die. He was so distracted by the amount of shit he felt like that he  
couldn't even fully freak out about the fact that he just got written up.

"It's about Mickey," Luca continued, noticing how Ian's ears seemed to literally perk up, "He's  
really good at his job. Honestly, the best server I've had in a while. I see him going really far with  
the company."

Ian felt his heart swell with pride. He had always thought Mickey was fucking awesome, but he  
loved when other people realized it. Hearing their employer speak so highly of his partner, made  
Ian instantly feel less shitty, as if the pure glee of the moment washed away all of his discomfort,

"He's amazing," Ian agreed, thoroughly aware at how dreamy his voice sounded.

"He is," Luca confirmed, "I'm trying to phrase this in the best possible way, but I don't know how  
to present it without coming off brash."

"Shit," Ian muttered, feeling dread wash over him. The joyful turn the conversation had taken  
seemed short lived.

"I'm not firing you. It's not like that. It just...," He paused and looked up, as if he was searching for  
words, "you're a major source of distraction for Mickey. When you're on an event with him, he's  
not as sharp or attentive as he should be. I have high hopes for him getting into a management  
position if he keeps up the level of service he's been providing, but you..." Luca grimaced as if it  
pained him to utter the words, "you stand in the way of that."

"Wow," Ian breathed, completely taken aback by the statement. If there was one thing that he  
would never want to do it would be to stand in the way of Mickey's success. Just the thought of it  
made him feel more ill than any alcohol would ever be capable of.

"I know you need the job and I'm not trying to say you shouldn't have it, I just wanted you to  
know where I stand. I hope you understand," Luca said softly, resting his hand in the crook of  
Ian's elbow. He could feel that he redhead's body was shaking slightly.

"I do," Ian assured him, "I get it." He did. He would start looking for another job, more seriously  
than he had before. He wanted what was best for Mickey, best for them.

"Go home and get some rest, ok?" Luca said patting him one more time before disappearing  
through the door.

As soon as his boss had passed the threshold, Ian dropped to his hands and knees and began to  
dry heave. He wasn't sure if emotions, the lack of hydration, or the liquor still coursing through his  
veins caused him to lose it again, but there he was hands burning on the scorching hot asphalt,  
gagging and spitting.

It took him several moments to get it together enough to stand up and head inside. He waited for  
Mickey to come off of the floor before he left.

"What the fuck, asshole," Mickey chided looking at the still full water bottle in his partner's hand,  
"You didn't drink shit."

"I know, I... Luca stopped me on the way. He's sending me home," Ian informed him, searching  
his face for a reaction.

"Really? Shiiit," Mickey groaned rubbing his forehead, "Fuck, you get written up?"

"Yeah," Ian admitted, his voice small.

"Should've fucking made you stay home," Mickey sighed, shaking his head in annoyance.

"This is on me I'm gonna head home and pass out."

"Don't want you walking to the El and riding it by yourself when you're sick. Call a cab, alright?"  
Mickey said, "You got money?"

"I'll be fine on the El, I'm..." Ian began but stopped mid-sentence when he saw Mickey's pursed  
lips. He'd fucked up enough over the last 24 hours that he wasn't looking to add to the issues,  
"gonna call a cab."

"Good," Mickey stated, licking his lips and nodding, "Don't wanna have to worry about your  
dumbass." He placed his hand on Ian's cheek and tapped his fingers slightly, looking into his eyes,  
"I love you."

"I love you, too."

"Text me when you get home. I'll be home as soon as I can be," Mickey promised.

And he was. A few hours later, Ian was in a twilight type sleep when he felt Mickey's arms wrap  
around his body. He hummed his appreciation, too exhausted to form coherent words.

"Was worried about you," Mickey whispered, his breath fanning over Ian's ear, "You ain't  
drinking anymore. Done with that."

Ian nodded ever so slightly and mumbled, "Never again."

"Did like dancing with your drunk ass though. Not gonna lie," Mickey admitted with a smirk.  
Ian's lips broke into a huge smile and Mickey squeezed him tighter, "There's that smile." And  
when they fell asleep, their smiles remained.

Chapter Seven: Later

"Where are you goin'?" Mickey asked, watching as Ian pulled on a grey v-neck T-shirt. He'd  
never considered himself much of a shopper, but ever since Ian had gotten his name tattooed on  
his collarbone, Mickey had thoroughly enjoyed picking up shirts for him here and there, "You  
look sexy. C'mere."

"Gotta run a few errands before we meet Carl for lunch," Ian informed him leaning over the bed  
so he could give Mickey a 'goodbye' peck.

"C'mon, man. Stick around. We haven't banged in days," Mickey groused, eye fucking Ian while  
biting his lip and lifting his eyebrows suggestively, "Look like you're finally feeling better."

"I am," Ian confirmed, shoving his wallet into his pocket and sliding his wedding ring onto his  
finger, "but I gotta go. Later, ok? Meet me at Shake Shack. Noon."

"Fine," Mickey sighed turning over to his side.

"Are you pouting?" Ian laughed, pushing his hair out of his face and crouching down next to the  
bed to look straight in Mickey's eyes, "Fuck, you do need to get laid, huh?"

"You offering?" Mickey asked, full of hope.

"Later," Ian assured him, kissing him one last one before grabbing his backpack and exiting the  
shitty apartment.

The weather was beautiful with nary a cloud in the sky. The day already felt different, he felt  
different. He couldn't even begin to imagine how he'd feel by that evening. He was living the last  
moments of his former life, and it was transcendent. He thought of Mickey's face, of how he'd  
react and placed his fingers subconsciously on his collarbone. When it came down to it, it was the  
only option that made sense to him, the only way that was right. He thought it would feel like a  
sacrifice, but it didn't. It was liberating, empowering and fulfilling, just like Mickey was to him.  
He jumped on the El and pulled out his paperwork, double checking that he had everything he  
needed, as the train headed to the North Side.

Lines and red tape had him arriving at Shake Shack ten minutes late, and finding his very  
aggravated partner waiting there for him... alone, "You fucking Gallaghers," Mickey ranted, as  
Ian walked towards him, "I swear, always late. Isn't he in the fucking Army? Isn't it like their first  
rule to be on time? And what's your fucking excuse, you shady shit?"

"Sorry, got caught up," Ian apologized, looping his arms around Mickey's waist loosely and  
leaning down to kiss him, "I'll tell you about it later."

"The fuck's with you and 'later,' huh? You're gonna fuck me later, tell me later... we're gonna have  
a real fucking busy night," Mickey huffed. Ian just stood there letting him go off, rubbing his  
lower back soothingly, "People say when you get married the sex dries up. That what's goin' on  
here? Got me all locked up and now you're not gonna put out any more?"

"I hear you're frustrated..." Ian began patiently but was cut-off by an annoyed scoff.

"Don't you even try to shrink me," Mickey warned.

"Do I need to blow you in the bathroom so you shut up?" Ian asked him in a harsh whisper.

Mickey shrugged, "Not the worst idea you've ever had."

"You're unbelievable," Ian tisked dropping his arms and shaking his head, "Asshole."

"You're the one that was late," Mickey reminded him with a completely unimpressed look on his  
face.

"I had a fucking reason," Ian stated clenching his jaw tight and jutting his chin out.

"That you'll tell me later, right Chin?" Mickey asked, irritation dripping off his voice.

"You're a hungry, horny bitch, you know that?" Ian shot back, the fire intensifying in his eyes.

"Who're you calling a bitch, you fucking fag," Mickey questioned getting into Ian's face.

Ian laughed a little in spite of himself, "It's pretty stupid to call me a fag like it's gonna to get to me,  
when you're MARRIED to me. Like, we're married Dipshit, you're as fucking faggy as me.  
Probably more," He spat back.

"That right?" Mickey asked, so close to Ian's face that he could feel his breath fanning over his  
skin.

"Mmmhmm," Ian nodded, not backing down, "That's right."

They stared heatedly into each other's eyes, both of their hearts beating fast from the exchange.

"You're so fucking hot, Mick," Ian breathed licking his lips, "Holy shit."

"Fuck you," Mickey spat back, his words lacking the malice he wished they held.

"Later," Ian said with a huge shit eating grin. Mickey look at him completely unamused but  
acquiesced when Ian leaned down to kiss him hungrily.

"Hey. Sorry I'm late. I was Skyping with Gage and we were having technical issues," Carl said  
approaching the couple who had just pulled apart from their kiss. A smile took over his lips and he  
was unable to hide the mischievous glint in his eye.

"Technical issues, huh?" Ian asked, raising his eyebrows, "Get them all sorted out?"

"Mmmhmm. All good," Carl confirmed, following Mickey and Ian into the restaurant.

"Glad someone's good," Mickey muttered under his breath, earning him a jab to the ribs from Ian's  
elbow.

"So how's married life treating you?" Carl asked as they waited in line, "Feel different?"

"It does, to me at least," Ian said looking at Mickey who was staring ahead at the menu.

"Mmmhmm," Mickey agreed, still facing forward, "We used to bang and we don't bang anymore,  
so that's different."

"Seriously? Shut the fuck up," Ian groaned rubbing his forehead. He turned to Carl who was not  
so subtly enjoying the show, "I drank too much at the club the other night and spent the last three  
days feeling like shit."

"Old man," Carl laughed, clapping Ian on the back companionably, "Can't keep up with the  
young guns anymore."

"Can't deal with your stupid shit, while I'm dealing with his stupid shit," Ian teased draping his  
arm around Carl's shoulder as Mickey flipped him the bird, "Miss you, man. Been too long."

"I know," Carl agreed, "Last time I saw you, you weren't even on the planet. Fucked outta your  
gourd."

"Feels like a lifetime ago," Ian admitted, looking over at Mickey, whose expression had softened,

"Didn't realize how bad I was-doing anything just to try to forget..." he paused searching his  
thoughts, "saw him and I could feel shit again, didn't want to be numb," He reached his hand out  
so he could hold Mickey's, happy that his partner didn't pull away, "Makes me better."  
Mickey squeezed his hand and mouthed 'Stop' knowing if Ian went on they would both get  
emotional.

"Happy for you," Carl said sincerely, looking back and forth between them, "both of you.  
Remember you guys sharing that twin sized bed every night. Would wake up sometimes to take a  
piss and you two were wrapped up in positions that I never thought could be possibly  
comfortable. Always been crazy in love. Knew it then."

"You in love?" Ian prodded, "You think this is it?"

Carl shrugged, "It's more than just having fun. I give a shit about him, he cares about me, too. I  
dunno. Guess we'll see."

Ian smiled at the look on Carl's face. They reached the front of the line, ordered and then found a  
table.

"So you got a picture? Told me you'd show me on," Ian reminded him.

"Uh, yeah, hang on," Carl scrolled through his camera roll making sure the screen was out of Ian's  
view.

"Dick pics for days in there?" Ian questioned with a laugh.

Carl just grinned and settled on a picture to show his brother. It was a selfie of him and Gage, both  
in their uniforms. Carl was smiling at the camera, perfect teeth exposed and Gage had his head  
resting on Carl's shoulder, a content look on his face. He was pale, with black hair and blue eyes  
and it was impossible not to see the resemblance, "Seriously?" Ian asked looking at Carl with an  
amused expression.

"I mean..." Carl said scrunching up his nose and shrugging.

"You got yourself a Mickey," Ian teased shaking his head in disbelief.

"Let me see," Mickey said grabbing for the phone. He let out a 'hmm' and nodded his approval,  
"Good looking guy."

"He looks like you!" Ian exclaimed, as if Mickey couldn't fucking see it for himself.

"So? You're the only one that gets to be cocky around here?" Mickey challenged.

"I don't think they look so similar," Carl stated looking from the picture to Mickey then back to the  
picture again, "Shit, alright."

"I'm fucking flattered," Mickey said, grinning as their food was brought to the table. He took a bit  
of his hamburger and then grinned smugly at Ian, "I got what Gallaghers like," he garbled, mouth  
full of meat. Ian rolled his eyes but couldn't hold back his chuckle.

"I'm sitting here wondering if I'm, like, ever gonna be able to fuck him again now," Carl stated,  
staring blankly like he was in a trance, as he dipped the fry between his fingers into ketchup.

"I mean, he's hot," Ian offered, "Doesn't got shit on the original but still hot."

"Ok, ok," Carl said, desperate to change the subject, "Tell me about work..."

*

As soon as Mickey stepped into the shitty apartment he stripped off his shirt and started  
unbuckling his shorts, "Get naked, Gallagher," He demanded looking back at Ian who was  
hanging tentatively by the doorway.

"Milkovich," Ian said softly.

"What?" Mickey asked, looking at him expectantly.

"It's Milkovich," He said reaching into his pocket to pull out his wallet. He walked over to Mickey  
and handed him his license.

Mickey's mouth dropped open as he looked at Ian's name: Ian Clayton Milkovich. He glanced at  
the picture and saw Ian smiling at the camera in the same v-neck he had on, tattoo visible, "No  
fucking way," He breathed, looking at Ian wide eyed, "This fake? Are you fucking with me?  
Because if you're fucking with me..."

"It's real," Ian assured him with a small smile, "Submitted the paperwork last week to the Social  
Security Administration and went to the DMV this morning."

"But..." Mickey looked perplexed like he was trying to solve the most complicated equation,

"You didn't wanna... I mean, I got it, believe me...."

"He was a prick. The worst fucking guy in the world, but you, you're the best and Mandy... I  
wanted to do it," Ian said genuinely placing his hand on Mickey's bare hip just above where his  
unbuttoned shorts were resting, "So, I'm a Milkovich."

"Your family is gonna fucking shit," Mickey said shaking his head at the thought.

"You had my back more than they ever did," Ian whispered dropping his lips to Mickey's  
shoulder, "I don't want to be a Gallagher anymore. I was selfish, difficult... I want to be better.  
Start fresh... with you."

"Fuck," Mickey sighed completely overwhelmed. He raked his fingers through Ian's hair, "I feel  
like a dick for giving you so much shit today."

"You always give me shit," Ian reminded him beginning to kiss and lick his way down Mickey's  
broad chest, "Still love going down on you."

"Mmm," Mickey hummed as Ian dropped to his knees and slowly pulled down his shorts and  
boxers, "Should I start callin' you Milkovich now, or you still gonna answer to Gallagher?"

"You can still call me Gallagher," Ian stated licking around the head of his dick, "Everyone else  
has to call me Milkovich."

"That right?" Mickey asked hotly, shuddering at the sensation of Ian's warm mouth wrapping  
around him.

"Mmmm" Ian confirmed the best he could with a mouth full of dick.

"Same name as your husband, huh?" Mickey said licking his lips seductively, loving the way that  
Ian looked up at him, his eyes alight with happiness, "You love that."

"Mmmm," He hummed as enthusiastically as possible given the circumstances.

"Good, then suck your husband's dick like you mean it, Milkovich" He prompted, throwing his  
head back as Ian eagerly went to work.

Chapter Eight: Sticky Sweet

"You think Yev's gonna be ok with me coming?" Ian asked, grabbing the cigarette from Mickey's  
lips so he could take a drag and calm his nerves. He had avoided going to Yev's practices and  
games worried that he'd infringe upon something the father and son shared, but he wanted to show  
support. He didn't want Yev to think he didn't care.

"Mmmhmm," Mickey responded taking the cigarette back. He wasn't exactly sure, but he hoped  
Yev'd be alright with it. He looked at Ian, who was clearly nervous and reached over to give his  
hand a quick squeeze of reassurance, "He'll be fine."

Ian nodded and felt his heart beat a little faster as they rounded the corner, drawing closer to the  
field. He had no idea how a nine year old could intimidate him so much, but Yev seemed to have  
it down to a science.

"Want another drag?" Mickey offered, "Can't bring it with."

They stood there while Ian smoked the cigarette, both gazing towards the field.

"Crazy, huh?" Ian uttered, "We were his age when we met."

"Nah, that was back when you had a huge-ass crush on me," Mickey corrected, "Don't remember  
much about you until way later."

"Bullshit," Ian retorted, looking over at Mickey skeptically, "C'mon."

"Really don't," Mickey insisted, "Probably better for you that I didn't notice you, though.  
Would've had to beat you up."

"Oh yeah?" Ian laughed, "and why's that?"

"Cause you probably looked real goofy. Always used to beat up stupid looking kids," Mickey  
said with a shrug, "Red hair, face full of freckles, you would've been a target for sure."

"I still have red hair and freckles," Ian reminded him with a grin, dropping the cigarette and  
stomping it out.

"Still look goofy," Mickey stated plainly, "fucking alien looking and shit."

"Is that right?," Ian asked, wrapping his arm loosely around Mickey's waist and pulling him in  
close. For some inexplicable reason, baseball diamonds made him horny as hell.

"That's right," Mickey confirmed, feeling his breath hitch in his throat as Ian ghosted his lips over  
his.

"Mmm," Ian hummed looking at him hotly, his mouth so close that Mickey could almost taste  
him, "So goofy that you get hard when I get close to you like this, don't gotta do shit and..." he  
cupped his free hand around the crotch of Mickey's shorts and smirked, "Yup, like a rock."

"Fuck off," Mickey laughed pressing his body close to Ian, who kept his hand on him and began  
to jostle his balls a bit over his shorts, "Workin' me up before we go to watch my kid play, that's  
low."

"You shouldn't give a shit, I'm goofy looking right?" Ian teased kneading and rubbing a little  
harder. Mickey let out a few breathy pants and looked into his eyes, full of want, "Tell me what I  
am?"

Mickey licked his lips and remained defiant, moaning as Ian picked up the pace of his movements.

He dropped his mouth to Mickey's neck and sucked on the soft skin.

"Tell me," He prompted, his voice muffled.

"Fuck," Mickey gasped at the sensations, "You're so fucking hot. Always thought you were the  
sexiest motherfucker. Always. Can turn me out just by lookin' at me."

"Mmm yeah," Ian moaned, very pleased with Mickey's admission. He picked his head up so he  
could place his lips against Mickey's and kiss him with more tongue than lip, "Gonna give it to  
you good when we get home. You want that? Want your husband to pound the hell out of you?  
Get you from behind, make you cum all over our sheets."

"Yeah, I want that," Mickey groaned feeling really fucking gone as Ian's hand kept working him,  
"But you gotta stop. Gonna bust in my shorts."

"I like that. You can sit there and remember what I do to you, how easy it is for me to make you  
cum all over yourself and beg for more."

"Alright, alright," Mickey grunted, knocking Ian's hand away despite wanting more, "You gotta  
quit, you perv."

"Perv, huh?" Ian laughed, "Wait 'til see the shit I'm gonna do to you tonight."

"Oh yeah?" Mickey bit his lip, intrigued, "Can't fucking wait." He pulled him down into another  
kiss, adjusting himself as they pulled apart, "Let's go."

He led the way towards the field and they took a seat on the bleachers, watching as the kids  
warmed up.

"Looks just like you," Ian commented, watching Yevgeny stretch. His dark hair stuck out from  
under the pale blue hat and his pale skin was streaked with white sunscreen that hadn't been  
rubbed in enough. He was the smallest kid on the team, but somehow he looked to be the  
toughest. Yevgeny glanced up at the bleachers and grinned when he saw his dad. He gave him a  
wave and then let his eyes track to Ian who got a smaller wave and a waning smile, "Is Kev  
coming?"

"Nah, he's going with Svet and V to some sorta counseling or something," Mickey said,  
nonchalantly as if it was completely trivial.

"They having problems?" Ian asked. He could never imagine having anybody else involved in his  
relationship with Mickey. He would want to kill the guy before he could even lay hands on him.

There was no fucking way.

"They're in a three-way marriage, man. Of course they're having problems," Mickey scoffed. Ian  
nodded his understanding.

Baseball was a lot slower of a game than Ian had allowed himself to remember, especially when  
played by 9 year olds who seemed to lack any semblance of hand-eye coordination, "You weren't  
kidding about them being the 'Bad News Bears'... brutal," Ian said willing the time to pass  
quicker. He had no clue how Mickey had the patience to sit through multiple games, "Yev's pretty  
good though."

Though he didn't really smile, Ian could tell that Mickey was beaming with pride, "Yeah, he does  
good," he agreed.

When they game ended, they walked down to to the field to congratulate Yevgeny on a job well  
done. Ian noticed that when he talked about the game, he was more animated and engaging than  
he typical was.

"C'mon, we'll walk you home. Get Amy and Gemma," Mickey directed. Yevgeny hustled over to  
the twins and gestured for them to follow him.

As the group was about to leave Mickey heard someone call out his name. He turned around to  
see Yevgeny's coach, Greyson headed towards them. "Hey Mick, hear congratulations are in  
order," he said shaking Mickey's hand, "Lana told me Yev missed last weeks game because you  
were getting married."

"Yeah," Mickey replied, "Thanks."

He was about to introduce Ian to Greyson when the coach told Yevgeny to, "introduce me to your  
new stepdad."

Yevgeny looked completely thrown by the request. Ian considered jumping in and correcting the  
coach, but he didn't want Yevgeny to think that he didn't WANT to be his stepdad, so instead he  
reached his hand out to shake the coach's and introduced himself.

The walk home was dominated by Amy and Gemma arguing, while all the guys kept painfully  
silent. Mickey knew that he'd have to approach the subject with Yevgeny at some point and assure  
him there was no rush for anything. He hoped they'd get there, but knew that it wasn't going to be  
something that came easy. They'd have to put in the work and maybe even then he wouldn't be  
able to think of Ian that way. He wasn't going to push the issue, because he'd just gotten to the  
point where he felt more comfortable around his son. He didn't want to fuck that up.  
He could sense Ian's discomfort, so he reached over to grab his wrist for a minute and squeeze it  
reassuringly before dropping it again. When they made it to the Ball-Fisher's they found Kev and  
Svetlana sitting on the porch, smoking, "Brought you home three knuckleheads," Mickey said as  
the kids all ran through the door ready to eat their dinner, "See ya," he called after them, eliciting  
over the shoulder waves as if they couldn't be bothered when spaghetti was on the brain. They all  
stood there silently as Kev and Svetlana avoided all eye contact with each other and angrily  
smoked their cigarettes, "Yeah, so..." Mickey glanced at Ian, trying to take a cue from him, but he  
just shrugged his shoulders dumbly, "We're gonna go."

As they were turning to leave, Kev called to them, "Don't ever get married to a woman. Worse  
yet, don't get married to two."

Svetlana angrily muttered something in Russian.

"We're pretty gay," Ian told him with a grin.

"And pretty married," Mickey added for good measure.

"Smart," Kev replied, falling into a trance of self-reflection, "I should've been gay. I'd be the  
baddest homo on the South Side."

Mickey just rolled his eyes and rubbed his forehead, while Ian laughed and waved goodbye.

"That was a little weird, huh?" Ian asked reaching into Mickey's back pocket to get out his carton  
of cigarettes and a lighter. He lit one for Mickey and then for himself, "Think Yev's ok?"

"Think he's fine, probably just didn't think too much about it, y'know," Mickey said, noticing the  
sadness washing over his partner's face, "Hey," he rubbed the back of Ian's next soothingly, "he'll  
come around."

They walked in silence, before Mickey posed the question, "What d'ya wanna do for dinner?"

"Thinking ice cream... we can just hit up DQ," Ian propositioned with lifted eyebrows.

"Are you four?" Mickey mocked, shaking his head and grinning at Ian, "I used to be the one with  
the sweet tooth and then you weren't so sweet anymore," He laughed when Ian squeezed his side,  
"Fuck, you were cute."

"We doing this again?" Ian warned, fanning his fingers out and glancing down at Mickey's crotch.

"We're doing a lot more of that than that after I get you your ice cream, princess," Mickey assured  
him.

They finished their cigarettes by the storefront before heading in, getting their confections, and  
then walking over to the park to sit on a bench and eat them.

"Who gets a cone at DQ?" Mickey chided, watching as Ian laid a fat lick into the side of his  
vanilla ice cream cone, "Blizzards are the shit, man. Dreamed of Snickers Blizzards when I was  
locked up, almost as much as I dreamed of you."

Ian face fell. It was never easy to think of Mickey behind bars. Even on the best of days he felt  
crushing guilt for how he'd wronged him by not standing by him.

"Stop," Mickey ordered, seeing it all over Ian's face. He watched as Ian's tongue tried to keep up  
with the cone that was dripping at a rapid pace due to the heat. The ice cream was running down  
his hand and he periodically licked it clean. Mickey was mesmerized thinking that this may have  
been one of the hottest things he'd witnessed in a long time, which was saying a lot since the two  
of them liked to get pretty freaky in bed, "Holy fuck, can't watch you eat that thing. It's doing shit  
to me," Mickey said not peeling his eyes off of him. A little bit of ice cream was dribbling from  
Ian's lower lip and Mickey was a moth to a flame, needing to lick it off. The subsequent kiss was  
messy, sweet and delicious.

"Wanna let it melt all over your perfect cock and lick it off," Ian told him as he bit and pulled out  
Mickey's lip, "It'd be really cold but I'd warm you up quick with my mouth."

"Such a hot fucking cocksucker," Mickey praised, shoving his tongue deep into Ian's mouth and  
kissing him passionately.

"Eat and walk?" Ian suggested after their kiss, standing up abruptly and signaling for Mickey to  
do the same.

Mickey smirked and they hightailed it back to the shitty apartment, ready to get sticky.

Chapter Nine: Honeymoon Part I

"Remind me why you thought goin' to some bumblefuck town was a good idea," Mickey  
groused, looking through the cab window at the quaint suburban life beyond it. Without a car,  
getting to Lake Zurich was a little more complicated than he would've liked, but Ian wanted to go  
somewhere that felt different and with his parole forcing them to stay in Illinois this had seemed  
like the best option. Ian was excited when he found a Bed and Breakfast that didn't break their  
ridiculously tight budget. They'd have to cut back on Patsy's trips and the assorted snacking they  
did while they were out, but from the looks of the place, it would be worth it.

"It's on a lake, they give us breakfast in the morning and..." He leaned over to he could whisper in  
Mickey's ear, "getting away makes me horny as fuck."

"Yeah?" Mickey breathed, biting his own lip and then turning his head so he could nibble on  
Ian's. They ignored the driver's pretty obvious clearing of his throat. When they pulled apart Ian  
rested his hand high on Mickey's thigh and Mickey rested his thoughts on a subject he wish he  
hadn't. The farthest he and Ian had ever gone together was to the North Side. 'Getting away'  
wasn't something they did. Images of Ian fucking Theo in fancy hotel rooms flooded his mind,  
along with a wave of nausea. Though it felt like a lifetime ago, it hadn't been. Ian wasn't as far  
removed from the lavish lifestyle that he probably felt now that he'd been living poor again.  
Mickey tried to ignore the crushing inadequacy that was pushing down on his chest. Ian chose  
him, married him, and loved him. None of that material shit mattered to him anymore, he'd proven  
that.

"What are you thinking about?" Ian asked, concern evident in his tone. Mickey wondered if he  
realized his own misstep, but decided not to broach the subject. It wasn't something he wanted to  
talk about either.

"Thinking about how I can't wait to fuck you," Mickey replied, his voice husky and low, "Been  
too long. Gonna take care of that ass."

"You are, huh?" Ian felt himself growing hard at the thought. He'd never think of himself as a  
bottom, it just wasn't him, but every once in a while he craved being filled up by Mickey's dick.  
His partner topped him as well as he bottomed, which meant he was a fucking beast in the sack.

Ian was determined to step it up and show Mickey how good he could take it for him.

"Mmmhmm," He replied pulling Ian's earlobe into his mouth and sucking on it gently, "Gotta  
consummate it the other way, too."

Ian let a soft moan escape his lips as Mickey moved down to his neck.

"Gotta turn my husband out," He continued his voice hushed by skin.

"You're right, this place is too far away," Ian acquiesced, leaning his head back and closing his  
eyes as Mickey's hands traveled towards the bulge in his shorts.

"Hey," The cabbie called back with a smirk. "We'll be there in like two miles. Think you guys can  
keep your cocks in your pants for two miles?"

"Depends how fast you're drivin' man," Mickey snarked, taking his hand off of Ian, who let out a  
disappointed sigh.

As they pulled up up to the Bed and Breakfast, Mickey was in awe of how nice it was. Ian had  
shown him pictures when he booked the suite, but he had only halfway paid attention. He wasn't  
even going to try to play down how excited he was. He looked at Ian with a big smile on his face  
and raised his eyebrows, "Holy shit."

"I know, right?" He grinned, happy to see that Mickey looked so pleased. The house itself was a  
white Dutch colonial with an eye-catching cupola and grand windows. The front yard was idyllic,  
covered with low bushes, lush grass, and wildflowers.

"Feels like a different world," He mused, finally understanding why they'd trekked out there. He  
reached for Ian's hand and gave it a squeeze before pulling out his wallet and paying the driver.  
Ian slung their duffel, which was packed full of clothes he knew they wouldn't be wearing, over  
his shoulder and followed Mickey into the Bed and Breakfast. The door had a small bell on it that  
alerted the owner when somebody entered. Before they could blink an attractive older woman  
appeared in the foyer, "You must be Ian and Mickey," She greeted warmly, "We're so happy to  
have you here to celebrate your honeymoon! I'm Cynthia," She reached out to shake each of their  
hands, "My husband Bart and I own this little slice of heaven."

"It's really beautiful," Ian complimented.

She smiled proudly, "Thank you! It's our pride and joy. Let me give you a quick tour. Just drop  
your bag here, we'll pick it up on the way to your suite.

Mickey looked at her skeptically and Ian smacked him in the arm to remind him that they weren't  
on the South Side anymore. She led them through the common areas and showed them where the  
meals were served.

"D'you got chocolate chips in there?" Mickey asked gesturing towards the kitchen.

"I think so," Cynthia replied, "Do you have a special request?"

"Um, for breakfast we like.." He licked his lips and steeled himself, figuring now was as a good a  
time as any to try it out somewhere other than Ian's ear, "my husband likes chocolate chip  
pancakes."

Cynthia nodded, "We can definitely do that."

As she opened the French doors that led out to the deck overlooking the lake, Ian leaned over to  
kiss Mickey, "Husband."

"It turns you on. Want you turned on," Mickey replied plainly. Ian just grinned knowingly and  
focused his attention on the beach.

"So, Monday and Tuesdays aren't really our busy nights, so you're going to be our only guests.  
That being said we've upgraded you to our Presidential suite which is on the top floor," Cynthia  
began.

"That gonna cost us more?" Mickey interrupted, narrowing his eyes at her.

"Oh of course not," Cynthia replied, "We're happy to provide the suite to you at no additional  
charge," She gestured for them to follow her up the large spiral staircase, "Our room is right next  
to the kitchen, so feel free to give knock if you need anything. You'll have more privacy up here  
than you would have in your original suite" she informed them when they reached the top of the  
stairs, "which is a must for newlyweds." She winked and opened the bedroom door, "You have  
king size bed, pullout couch, desk, mini fridge, and a stunning balcony that overlooks Lake  
Zurich," She boasted, waving her hands with a flourish towards the wall of windows and French  
doors that led outside.

"This is unbelievable. Thanks so much, Cynthia," Ian said shaking her hand again.

"It's our pleasure," She assured him, "We'll have dinner ready for you gentleman in about an hour,  
do you find that agreeable?"

"Sounds good," Mickey replied, pursing his lips. She was nice and all, but he wanted her to get  
hell out of the room so he could fuck his husband.

"I'll let you get settled," She said, seeming to have received the not so subtle hint and scurrying out  
of the room.

As soon as they could no longer hear Cynthia's feet padding down the stairs they were on each  
other, hands pulling off shirts and pushing down shorts until they were fully naked, rolling around  
the bed, frantically making out, their tongues tangling desperately.

"Fucking love you, you know that?" Mickey practically panted, licking Ian's tattoo and then  
kissing a sloppy trail from his chest to his belly button as Ian's stomach heaved under his lips,  
fingers grabbing into brunet hair.

"Love you, too," Ian crooned as Mickey sucked a mark onto the skin that stretched tautly over his  
hip bone.

Mickey peeled his lips off of Ian's warm skin and directed him to, "Get the lube, bitch," biting his  
tongue in the most mischievous way.

"Starting our honeymoon off with pure romance," Ian teased, getting on knees and leaning over  
the edge of bed so he could reach for the duffel.

Mickey situated himself behind him, digging his teeth into Ian's muscular ass cheek and then  
laying a smack in the pale skin. He grinned when his husband yelped, the sound a perfect  
marriage between pleasure and pain, "Like that," He asked biting him again, eliciting the filthiest  
moan from the redhead's lips. Ian tossed the KY onto the bed and rested his face on the comforter  
as Mickey teased his hole with the tip of his tongue. He flicked a few times before licking fat  
circles around the muscular ring, "I always take your big dick so good, you gonna show me how  
you can open for mine?"

"Yeah," Ian gasped as Mickey continued his barrage on his asshole. He moaned when he heard  
his husband spit and felt the warm saliva coat his opening.

"Ain't gonna go easy on you," Mickey warned, slicking his digits up with lube and pressing his  
index finger slowly into Ian. He felt his lover's muscles clench around his finger firmly, "Fuck,  
such a tight little hole."

"Mmmm," Ian moaned appreciatively, rolling his ass back towards Mickey. He straightened his  
arms and pressed his hands against the mattress so he could get better leverage. Looking over his  
shoulder at the brunet, his eyes were burning with want.

"Shit, I see you, Gallagher," Mickey praised, loving how needy for penetration his husband was.  
Typically when Ian bottomed he let Mickey do all of the work and just accepted, now he was  
showing that he was ready to play.

"Give me more," Ian prompted, dropping his head down between his shoulders and groaning as  
Mickey added his middle finger. He fucked into him slowly, creating small revolutions with his  
fingers.

"Turn over," Mickey ordered, "Gonna suck that cock while I spread you out."

Ian moved quickly, situating himself on his back so Mickey could return his fingers to their task  
and take Ian's hard dick into his mouth. Ian felt that the bottom half of his body was tingling with  
electric energy as Mickey deep throated and expertly fingered him, "Feels so good," Ian moaned,  
his legs begin to tingle and shake, "Fuck, you suck my cock like your mouth was made for it.  
C'mon baby... oh fuck, just like that."

Mickey grinned around his member as Ian began to thrust up into his face, "Such a fucking top,"  
he warbled his mouth full of dick. He could taste Ian begin to drip precum down his throat and  
knew that he needed to get the show on the road. He pulled off of him with a pop and lubed up  
his straining erection, "Ready?" He asked, taking in Ian's hooded eyes, flushed cheeks and puffy,  
well-kissed lips, "Goddamn, you're hot."

"Not as hot as you," Ian disagreed dropping his hand to his own erect cock and beginning to  
pump himself with a moan, as he stared at Mickey face.

"Keep doing that," Mickey said lining up with Ian's ready hole. He pushed in slowly, making sure  
Ian felt every inch. By the way that Ian was shivering from the sensation, he was sure that he was  
loving every slight movement. He began to roll his hips, slow at first so Ian could get used to the  
feeling. He licked his lips and uttered, "Fuck yeah, like that, baby," as Ian lifted up his hips to  
meet his every thrust, "Showing me that you love taking cock."

"You know how to fuck," Ian groaned, licking his lip and letting out a few harsh exhales as  
Mickey picked up his pace. He stopped jerking himself off and threw his arms up above him,  
closing his eyes as Mickey humped into with such a perfect rhythm that he felt like he was on  
another plane, "Holy shit, you know how to fuck." He gasped when Mickey lowered his body  
flank to his and tucked his arms up around Ian's back so he could rest his hands on either one of  
his shoulders and push him down onto his dick as he pounded into him with solid, even snaps. He  
could hear the delicious slapping of Mickey's balls hitting his ass as he pummeled him, "Ohhh  
ohh, fuck. Oh yeah, fuck me, Mick," He cried his voice wavering from the pleasure, "Holy...  
fuck."

Mickey rested his forehead against Ian's as he continued to give it to him hard just the way he  
himself loved to be fucked. He twisted his hips and angled up between hard thrusts so he could  
pulse the tip of his dick against Ian's prostate. His husband was mess underneath him, quaking,  
shaking and rolling his hips up towards him vehement from the sensation, "My cockslut loves  
taking dick, don't you?"

"Mmm yours, love taking yours," He groaned intertwining his hands together so that he could  
form a loop with his arms and throw them around Mickey's neck, "But wanna show you how I  
can ride it."

"Oh yeah?" Mickey asked, raising his eyebrows in surprise, so turned on that he stopped moving  
for fear that if he fucked into him one more time he would bust too soon. Though he had teased  
him with the idea plenty of times in the past, Ian had never ridden his cock before. Just from  
watching the motherfucker during his time dancing on he club he knew that he had skills, but he  
never wanted to pressure him, so he hung back and waited, "Were you saving yourself for  
marriage, Princess?"

"Fuck off," Ian laughed lifting up so that he could capture Mickey's lips with his own. After the  
kiss, he pushed Mickey off of him and grabbed his hand to lead him over to the overstuffed sofa.  
Mickey sat back spreading his legs out and rubbing his hand up and down on his dick as Ian  
straddled above him. Watching Ian reach back and spread his cheeks open so he could sit on his  
cock was probably one of the most insanely hot visuals he had ever had. Ian shimmied his hips as  
he got comfortable with being fully seated. He placed one hand on Mickey's shoulder and the  
other on his hip, as he lifted his body up and down on his erection, "Fuuuck," Mickey moaned  
trying to keep it together. The view was too much with Ian's gorgeous face, perfect cock, and  
ripped up body gyrating on top of him. His blue eyes were trained on that cock. As far as he was  
concerned it should be a national monument. It was long, thick and straight as an arrow, the way it  
bounced and bobbed with every movement was borderline obscene. It looked heavy and full and  
he needed to have it in his mouth, "Move in closer and arch your back," Mickey ordered, grasping  
onto Ian's ass with one hand and grabbing his cock with the other. Ian did as he was told, resting  
his hands in Mickey's knees behind him and thrusting his hips up. He let out a cry when Mickey  
hunched forward as much as he could, formed an 'O' with his lips and took the head of Ian's dick  
into his mouth. Every time Ian thrust up his cock would slide about an inch in and every time he  
leaned back down it would inch out. The sensation of being full of cock while getting his head  
sucked off was enough to push Ian over the edge.

"I'm really fucking close," He warned, his balls growing tight in anticipation of the explosion that  
was on the brink of occurring. Mickey dug his fingers into his ass deeper and prompted him to  
keep going, which Ian knew meant that his husband was ready for his load. It took one more arch  
of his back and he was spilling his seed down Mickey's throat. As he was shuddering with the  
force of his orgasm, he felt a hot geyser of cum fill up his asshole as Mickey cried out below him.  
Ian fell forward resting his forehead on Mickey's shoulder, his face on his chest. He rubbed his  
nose against Mickey's tattoo and struggled to catch his breath, "What the hell was that?" Ian  
reflected his words choppy.

"No fucking clue," Mickey stated kissing the Ian's temple tenderly and reaching up to muss his  
hair, "but goddamn, Gallagher that was good."

Ian couldn't stop himself from grinning like an idiot as he garnered the strength to climb off of  
Mickey, "Want a cigarette?"

Mickey laughed, "How's that even a question?" He leaned forward and kissed a drop of cum off  
Ian's dick before standing up, grabbing a carton of cigarettes and lighter out of his short's pocket,  
and following his ass naked husband onto their balcony.

Honeymoons were the shit.

Chapter Ten: Honeymoon Part II

Mickey woke up outstretched like a starfish on the king size bed, enjoying the comfort until he  
realized he was alone. He rolled over to look at the clock: 5:45am. Groaning he wiped the sleep  
from his eyes and sat up, scanning the room for Ian. He caught sight of a shock of red hair beyond  
the window and sighed, climbing out of bed so he could see what his deal was.

He was laying on the chaise lounge, fully naked, smoking a cigarette and staring out at the sun  
rising over the lake, "It's beautiful," He stated, not peeling his eyes off of the horizon.

"It's early," Mickey countered, adjusting himself in his boxer shorts, "You feeling okay?" He  
knew that there'd never be a day when he didn't worry that Ian doing something out of the  
ordinary was indicative of the start of a swing. One day, they'd be in that place again, but when it  
happened, he'd be more prepared. In prison, there wasn't much to do but fuck around in the yard,  
mind his own business, and read. He found himself drawn to journals and articles about mental  
illness. It wasn't the thought of him and Ian ending up together that drew him to research, it was  
the chance that they wouldn't. He needed to understand everything better, how Ian could've gone  
from the kid that chased him around, forcing him to love him, to the cold man who had to be paid  
to visit him in prison. It was comforting in a strange way, to learn how the disorder ebbed and  
flowed, how it wouldn't change the person Ian was but how he reacted to things, and shifted.  
Deep down, he knew that he had sought a way to rationalize Ian's behavior in order to mitigate his  
own heartbreak.

"A little sore," Ian replied, looking at him with a smirk, "But it's a really nice achey soreness that  
reminds me that my husband's dick was in my ass all night."

"Like that, huh?" He asked, raising his eyebrows.

"Saying 'husband' or having your dick in my ass?" Ian questioned. He straddled his legs to the  
edges of the lounger and gestured for Mickey to join him, "C'mere."

The brunet obliged climbing into the open space and resting his back against his husband's chest.  
Ian draped one of his arms protectively over Mickey's shoulder, resting his hand on his tattoo,  
"Both."

"Love both," Ian confirmed, pressing his lips against his shoulder and inhaling, "Love you."

"Why're you up?" Mickey asked as the redhead reached his other arm around and placed the  
cigarette between his full lips. He inhaled and blew out the smoke watching as it floated up  
towards the cadet grey sky.

"Thinking, I guess," He replied rubbing Mickey's arm.

"Bout what?"

"Just wondering if it's always gonna be like this," Ian pondered, "you and me, our life."

"Like what?"

"Happy. Think we'll always be happy?" He asked burrowing his face into the nape of his neck.

"Eh not really," Mickey answered honestly, "Things'll probably suck sometimes."

Ian grinned against his skin and picked his head up, leaning it against the back of the chair. "And  
what happens when they do?"

"I dunno? Hang in there until they stop sucking?" He replied with a shrug, "Gotta stop at some  
point. I mean, we give a shit so... they'd stop."

"Give a shit?" Ian laughed.

"Love each other, homo," He smiled, "That better?"

"Much," Ian confirmed, taking the cigarette from Mickey. They sat in a comfortable silence for a  
while, basking in the serenity, "Think we'll ever own a house?"

"Maybe," Mickey replied, "Nothing like this or the shit you got used to, though."

"Stop," Ian hushed, letting the hand that had been resting on his tattoo, slide down to hold  
Mickey's, "Only thing I'm used to is our shitty apartment. No place has ever felt more like home to  
me."

"Not even the Gallagher house of horrors?"

"Nah. Only with you. That's home."

"Fuuuuck, man, that shit's too much even for you," Mickey chided, but Ian could see the  
reddening of his cheeks, "Corny ass."

"It's true," He retorted, "It's like, I feel settled. My mind, my body. I don't know. It's weird."

"You're so settled that you couldn't sleep and got both of us up at the ass-crack of dawn?" Mickey  
asked raising his eyebrows.

"You know what I mean," He sighed, "Grumpy."

"Early."

"Think we'll ever have kids?" Ian mused, "Other than Yev?"

Mickey's body stiffened and he shifted uncomfortably, "You working on growin' a pussy?"

"I'm just wondering."

"Maybe I could just fuck your mouth, because it's definitely makin' me think you're a pussy."

"Fuck you," Ian spat, with only amusement in his tone.

"Don't want kids," Mickey stated his voice sounding both worried and serious, "You know that."

"Wasn't sure if you thought you may ever change your mind, that's all."

"Ain't gonna change my mind," Mickey assured him, "Look at me," Ian indulged him, leaning  
forward so Mickey could turn his neck and look into his green eyes. He took a deep breath. "I  
fucking love you, Ian. I really, really love you. I'd rather get shot in the fucking face than lose you  
again, but I'm not changin' my mind about having a kid. Never gonna happen. Already fucked up  
my one kid's life, ain't gonna have another one so I can do it again."

"You didn't fuck up Yevgeny's life," Ian disagreed, "C'mon, you're an amazing dad."

Mickey pulled away from Ian, so he could turn and fully face him, sitting on his knees between  
the redhead's legs, "I was in prison for most of his childhood. That's fucking up his life whether I  
was tryin' to or not. Wasn't fair to him. Don't matter if I'm doing better now or not."

"It matters to him," Ian said softly. It was easy to see how much Yevgeny loved his dad, "I won't  
bring it up again. You're all I need."

Mickey exhaled the breath he didn't realize he'd been holding and looked down at Ian's lap,  
raising his eyebrows, "That cock is all I need."

"You only want me for my cock," Ian teased bringing his legs in tighter so they were squeezing  
either side of Mickey's thighs. He leaned back, putting one hand behind his head and the other on  
his dick, stroking it slowly, waking it up.

"Pretty much," Mickey confirmed, "but right now, I want you for your lanky ass limbs." He  
climbed over Ian's leg and off the chaise, dropping the cigarette in the ashtray and reaching for his  
husband's hands, "Fucking tired."

"I'm not," Ian protested as Mickey pulled him up, "and I'm hard!"

"Never told you to start working yourself like a goddamn pornstar, asshole," He stated draping  
Ian's arms over his shoulders and practically dragging him back to bed, "Just lay there and do your  
thinking. With your mouth shut. So I can fucking sleep, cause if I don't I'm gonna be a prick and I  
don't wanna be a prick."

"You're kinda already being a prick," Ian retorted, wrapping his arms around Mickey as he pulled  
the puffy comforter over them and adhered himself to Ian's body.

"Remind me to give a shit when I wake up, ok?" Mickey said with a yawn, "swear I'll try to."

"You're too good to me."

"Shhhh."

They made it out of their room somewhere after ten, which felt like a much more agreeable hour  
to Mickey.

"Good morning!" Cynthia chirped as soon as they reached the bottom of the stairs, "Ready for  
those chocolate chip pancakes?"

"That'd be great," Ian said smiling congenially at her.

"Great, take a seat at the dining room table and I'll have them out in a jiffy," She said hurrying into  
the kitchen.

"Think this is what it's like to have a mom?" Mickey wondered sitting down across the table from  
Ian, "You wake up and she hauls ass to do shit for you?"

Ian shrugged. He would've brought up the fact that Fiona had always made sure there was  
breakfast on the table and clean laundry in their drawers, but he didn't want to go there. Even  
though their family had it tough, their struggles were nothing compared to the Milkoviches. It was  
crazy for him to think about how dirty and unkempt Mickey was when they first hooked up. His  
clothes has holes in them and he only took a shower every few days because hot water was hard  
to come by when nobody paid the electric bill. People had made fun of him, not to his face of  
course, but behind his back, which Ian had always thought was pretty ridiculous since they were  
all South Side. Ian never gave a shit that his clothes were ratty or his hair was greasy, he only gave  
a shit that he was Mickey and that was enough for him.

"I put extra chocolate chips," Cynthia announced as she flitted into the room placing plates of  
huge fluffy pancakes in front of each of them. They both mumbled 'thank you' as they stuffed their  
mouths. "Worked up an appetite, I see," She said with a smile, sitting down in the seat next to Mickey's.  
Ian laughed and Mickey shot her a disgusted sidelong glance, "honeymooning and all," she  
added, "Bart and I have been married for 40 years. Can you believe it?"

Ian smiled politely while Mickey shrugged. He could. She looked old.

"How long have you two been together?" She prodded, "Seems like a while. You have a  
beautiful connection. Can tell by the way that you look at each other that you're crazy in love."  
Mickey ate quietly, hoping that if he just stopped talking she would go away, but his annoyingly  
well-mannered husband didn't get the memo and began to fill in the blanks, "15 years on and off,"  
He replied, "never stopped thinking of him, even when we were apart."

Cynthia squealed, while excitedly clapping her hands, "You two! The cutest, I swear."

"Do you have any advice for how to make it last?" Ian asked, licking chocolate off his lips and  
smirking at Mickey who looked like he was ready to kill him for engaging her.

"Love each other more than you hate each other even when it's hard," She stated simply, "that's  
the secret."

Mickey ruminated on the idea, thinking that it made a lot of sense because nobody pissed him off  
more than Ian, but fuck if he didn't love the hell out of him.

"And have a lot of sex," She added with a grin, "But with the way house was settling last night, I  
doubt lack of sex is an issue for you two." She gave them a quick wink before shuffling back into  
the kitchen.

Mickey just stared at Ian, completed unimpressed, "This is why you shouldn't fucking talk to  
people."

"Gotta love me more than you hate me," Ian reminded him, smirking, "even when you don't want  
to."


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter Eleven: Milkovich

"Long time no see," Grace exclaimed, hugging Ian as he approached the table she and Lip were  
occupying at Keegan's.

"Hey," Ian greeted with a smile, patting her back warmly, "So good to see you."

She pulled away and grabbed Ian's hand, squealing excitedly at the sight of the ring that was  
occupying his finger, "I can't believe I fucking missed it," she shot an annoyed look at Lip who  
shrugged evasively, "Was it perfect?"

Ian grinned and nodded, laughing as Grace wrapped him back up in her arms. She was reluctant  
to let go, but Lip nudged her so he could hug his brother.

"Look good, man. Healthy," Lip complimented. A few days had passed since he and Mickey had  
arrived home from Lake Zurich and while they were both working long hours, things at home had  
been blissful. Ian now understood where the phrase 'Honeymoon phase' came from. They were  
both positively moony. There was something really intense and meaningful about promising  
yourself to another person. It seemed that even though Mickey had originally thought that  
marriage was just a piece of paper, he was feeling it too. There was a safety in that type of  
commitment, a type of settled that neither of them had ever felt. "Everything good?"

"Everything's amazing," Ian said, sitting in the chair next to Grace and picking up the menu,

"What d'you guys like here?"

"Burger," Lip replied taking a swig of his beer.

"I'm vegan now, so I get a salad with oil and vinegar," Grace replied, her response earning a scoff  
from Ian.

"I gotta have meat," He stated matter-of-factly, unable to imagine how somebody could function  
without eating beef.

"Case in point: Mickey," Lip teased, smirking at Ian as his brother gave him the middle finger.

"Always so fucking clever," Ian laughed, rolling his eyes.

"Known to be," Lip confirmed, "There're Fi and Debs," he said waving his sisters over.

"Sweet-face!" Fiona cried hugging Ian tightly "Did you have fun?"

"A lot," Ian nodded with a grin.

"Ok, we don't need any more than that," Debbie teased, laughing as her brother squeezed her  
sides, "Quit!" She hugged Grace and Lip, then took a seat, "Seriously though, only you and  
Mickey can practically eat each other's faces off during your wedding and somehow make it  
cute."

"Eat each other's faces?" Ian questioned, laughing.

"You totally do," Fiona verified, pulling her hair up into a messy top knot, "lots of face sucking,  
sooo much tongue."

"I'm sorry you guys don't know how to kiss," Ian smirked directing his attention back to the menu.

By the time the waitress arrived at the table, he'd settled on a cheeseburger and fries, happy that  
his fry fiend husband wasn't there to sneak them off his plate. Other than the protection his fries  
would be afforded, there was no other bright side to Mickey not being with him. He pulled his  
phone out of the back pocket of his shorts and shot him a text:

-Miss you. Done work yet?-  
-GAY. Another half hour-  
-For you-  
-Love u. C U soon-

"Crazy that you're the first Gallagher to get married, isn't it?" Lip mused, bringing Ian back into  
the conversation and tapping an unlit cigarette between his fingers.

"I was married," Fiona reminded him.

"To someone they actually know," Lip clarified, causing Fiona to give him the finger, while  
everyone else laughed.

"Speaking of Gallaghers," Ian began, pulling his license out of his wallet and tossing it across the  
table towards his brother, "not one anymore."

"No shit," Lip said looking up from the i.d, eyebrows raised in surprise, "This for real?"  
Ian nodded, "Yeah, changed it last week."

Fiona grabbed the license from Lip's hands, "Ian Clayton Milkovich," She read slowly aloud, eyes  
wide, "Wow."

"Ian Milkovich," Lip repeated, shaking his head in disbelief, "That's really weird," he rubbed his  
forehead, "really fucking weird."

"We're married, so..." Ian clicked his tongue, "don't get why it's so weird."

"Milkoviches, man," Lip laughed, "You gonna walk around all moody? Get arrested? Stop  
showering?"

"Fuck off," Ian sighed, already over the dinner and they hadn't even received their food yet. He  
wondered if Lip would ever be capable of finding a love like they had. As the years passed, he'd  
grown more defensive. His cynicism had given way to bitterness. Maybe if he really opened  
himself up to Grace, let himself go, they could get there. She could be the one to soften his edges.  
He hoped that Lip would be able to let her in, because Grace was good for him and as strong as  
she was beautiful.

"You didn't have any problem fucking a Milkovich for a while," Debbie reminded him, giving  
Grace an apologetic look. She shrugged, unbothered, which made it pretty obvious that Lip hadn't  
filled her in on his reunion with Mandy during their breakup.

"There's always gotta be one exception in a family," Lip reasoned, "Pretty sure Carl's ours."

Their meal arrived just in time to assuage the tension. While he ate, Ian couldn't help but think of  
how Mickey would like the food there. It was incredible how much bandwidth his husband took  
up in his mind. He could never get him out of his head, not that he'd want to. When he wasn't with  
him, he wanted to be. He hated how his family felt inclined to constantly bag on Mickey and  
blamed himself for allowing it to become commonplace by never stopping it years ago.

"You're quiet, Fi," Grace stated, a look of concern on her face, "You feeling alright?"  
Fiona cleared her throat and nodded even though it was obvious that she wasn't. She glanced over  
at Ian, who looked back at her with an expectant expression. She steeled herself, "It's just..." She  
paused searching for her words, "it's not that I'm not happy for you. I am. I raised Ian Gallagher,  
that's all. It makes me kinda emotional. Like you're not 'you' anymore and I love 'you.'"

"I'm still me," Ian said softly and he meant it. He felt more himself than he had been in years. He  
wasn't Theo's Ian, who numbed his emotions with cocaine or the Gallaghers' Ian, the mostly  
forgotten middle child. He was Mickey's Ian, profoundly loved, in love, and exceedingly well  
cared for.

"It's just crazy to me that you're not a Gallagher anymore," Debbie added, "Like, I'm a girl and I  
don't think I'd even change my name!"

Ian narrowed his eyes at his sister and Fiona put her hand on Debbie's shoulder assuring Ian that,  
"She didn't mean it to come out like that."

"What?!" Debbie asked confused, "I'm just saying that it's usually the girl who changes her name.  
I'm a girl and I don't think I would."

Ian was too annoyed by the whole scene to say much in response, so instead he shoved a French  
fry into a glob of ketchup, repeatedly.

Lip whispered something quietly to her, prompting her to turn towards Ian, "C'mon, you know I  
didn't mean it to come out like that."

"I know, Debs," Ian replied with a deep sigh, "Listen, I'm gonna go."

"Really Ian?" Debbie scoffed, rolling her eyes.

"It's not you. It's not any of you. I'm just beat," He stated rubbing his forehead. He stood up and  
tossed a $20 bill down on the table, "I'll see you guys later."

With that he was gone, smoking a cigarette as he walked home. He knew that Debbie didn't mean  
anything by it, but he was tired of having to constantly defend his decisions. Sure, he'd fucked up  
in the past, but not any worse than the rest of them. He wondered if they'd realize that he'd  
stopped asking for their opinions a while ago, purposefully.

Ian was still frustrated by the time he got back to the shitty apartment. Aside from the glow of the  
television, the space was completely dark. He kicked off his sandals, quietly making his way over  
to the couch where he knew he'd find Mickey. It was only 9:00pm, but the brunet was sprawled  
out, mouth hanging open, fast asleep. He'd been working like a dog since they got back from  
Lake Zurich. Luca had been giving him extra shifts to make up for the money they'd lost taking  
time off for the wedding and honeymoon. The fact that he had to wake him up anyway to get him  
into bed made it easier to rationalize taking what he wanted. He crawled onto the couch and  
burrowed his face into Mickey's neck, taking a deep inhale, "Mick?"

"Hmm..." He crooned quietly, rubbing his eyes, "what're ya doing?"

"Crazy night," Ian replied, unzipping his shorts and pulling them off along with his boxer briefs,

"Gotta fuck."

"You gonna tell me about it or..." Mickey asked, his voice falling off as his husband tugged down  
his boxers.

"Just gonna fuck you right now."

Mickey groaned, "I'm tired."

"Lay there. You don't have to do anything more than that, ok? Just gotta get off, baby."

"Fucking use me for my ass," Mickey groused, without much annoyance in his tone.

"Not usually, but right now I'm not even gonna try to deny it. You still good from this morning?"

He pressed his finger against Mickey's opening and sighed when he felt that he wasn't.  
Mickey punched out a laugh, "Shit, sorry my muscles are tight after being on my feet all goddamn  
day, asshole."

"That's what I'm trying to get into," Ian said with a cheeky grin. He hurried into their bedroom to  
get the lube and came back into the living room to find Mickey still on his side, eyes closed,

"Gonna open you just enough," he informed him, earning a grunt of agreement from Mickey,

"Fuck, I'm horny for you." He added a second finger hastily and scissored a few times before  
pressing his chest flank to Mickey's back and wrapping his arms protectively around his waist. He  
let out a pleasured exhale of relief as he shoved his straining cock into Mickey's hole, "Perfect  
ass," He moaned, "couldn't stop thinking about this perfect fucking ass all night." He rolled his  
hips into Mickey, shaking at the sensation of his ass contracting around him, "Feel good?"

"Mmm," Mickey confirmed with a yawn.

"You're gonna bruise my self-esteem," Ian teased, continuing to work on getting himself off.

"Not possible," Mickey mumbled with a smirk obvious in his tone.

"You gonna cum with me?" Ian asked panting as he picked up his pace, pulling Mickey closer.

He buried his face into his husband's shoulder, moaning as he raced towards his climax.  
Mickey grunted something that sounded like, 'just go.'

"Fuck, you're so amazing. My amazing fucking husband. Take it so good for me," He whispered,  
hotly in Mickey's ear, prompting Mickey to lift up a hand and smack Ian in the forehead.

"The fuck?" Ian laughed his hips losing momentum.

"You talk too much," Mickey chided, "Just fucking fill me up so we can go to bed."

Ian refocused, pumping into him rhythmically once again. It took one more session of hard  
ramming until he was spilling into Mickey's ass with a cry. As he came down he kissed Mickey's  
shoulder and sighed, "Shit, I needed that. Love you."

"Love you," Mickey muttered back, "Now clean me up so I can fucking sleep in peace."

"Thought we'd go for round two," Ian joked, climbing off of him to grab wet paper towels from  
the kitchen.

"Do me a favor?"

"Hmm," Ian hummed with interest.

"Fuck off."

"Just did," Ian laughed, feeling light, sated and not at all anxious anymore.

Chapter Twelve: Green

Mickey leaned against the hot brick wall of the DOC, taking a long drag from his cigarette. His  
phone vibrated in his pocket and when he pulled it out he saw a text from 'My Sexy Husband.' He  
rolled his eyes as he always did when he saw Ian's self-declared title on the screen and reminded  
himself to change it to 'My Dumbass Husband.'

-How'd it go?-  
-Ok Will tell u when I get home-  
-Tim & Sam are already here. Called in pizza at Lou Malnati's on Ogden. Pick it up b4 you come  
home. Make sure they put enough pepperoni this time. Get beer 2-  
-Anything else Princess?-  
-Remind me to beat that smart ass with my dick 2nightMickey shook his head and laughed while shoving his phone back into his pocket.

"What's up, smiley?" A familiar voice greeted. Mickey turned his head a bit to see Jake standing  
beside him, all decked out in his uniform.

"Hey," Mickey said clearing his throat uncomfortably and biting his lower lip, "How's it going?"

"Going well," He responded, very obviously checking him out, "Look good."

Mickey nodded, unsure of what to say in response. Jake looked hot, but there was no way he was  
going to say shit. He thought about how he'd respond if his very possessive husband was there  
and asked, "How are you?"

"Alright. Meeting with your PO?" Jake asked, lighting up a cigarette.

"Yeah, he said I'm a good candidate for Early Termination of Probation, so we'll see." He reached  
up to rub his knuckle against his nose, forcing himself to sustain eye contact even though it felt  
awkward as fuck.

"Got some new hardware there, huh?" Jake asked, gesturing towards Mickey's ring. The  
companionable tone that he'd been speaking with slipped away, leaving only wryness, "You  
fucking married him?"

Mickey didn't respond, choosing to stare forward at the parking lot in front of them instead.

"Wow," Jake scoffed with a sardonic laugh, "We broke up, what, like," he thought for a moment,  
"6 months ago and you're already married to your cheating, coked out, ex-boyfriend."

"Hey," Mickey warned his head snapping around so he could face Jake, "Don't fucking talk about  
him like that. You don't know shit." The cop's face was rife with hurt, the sight of it softening  
Mickey slightly.

"Need that," Jake sighed taking the cigarette from Mickey's fingers. He took a deep inhale and  
leaned against he wall next to him. Mickey lit another one and turned his attention back to  
counting cars, "You happy?"

Mickey hummed and nodded. They stood in silence, smoking their cigarettes both wondering if it  
was worth saying the words they'd left unsaid. Having had his heart broken multiple times in the  
past, Mickey felt compelled to at least attempt to assuage Jake's very obvious pain, "I didn't plan it  
like this. I was in it when I was with you, was into you."

"But you loved him. When you were with me, you still loved him," Jake said sadly, rubbing the  
back of his neck.

"Love of my life, man," Mickey said simply, looking into his icy blue eyes, "Not that I didn't give  
a shit, but it's always been him."

"Fuck... you're married," Jake muttered, shaking his head in disbelief, "I thought that he'd fuck up  
and I'd be able to get you back. Really did."

"You could do better," Mickey said with a smirk, bringing his cigarette to his lips and letting it  
hang there as raised his eyebrows and uttered, "Hellish, right?"

Jake let out a light laugh and sigh, resting his head against the brick and closing his eyes, "I could  
write you an affidavit for your Early Termination. Wouldn't hurt to have a good word from a  
cop."

"Don't know if it would be good coming from a cop I was banging," Mickey tsked. He watched  
as Jake's face fell, driven by the sadness to clarify, "a cop I was with."

"Know how to write one, make it nice and professional," Jake offered, "Up to you."

"Why would you do that?" Mickey asked, taken aback by the kindness.

"Because I gave a shit," Jake said with a shrug, "Still got my number right?"

"Uh, probably gonna need it again," Mickey replied, cringing at the implications. After he and Ian  
ran into Jake at the club, the redhead ranted and raved about Mickey still having his number in his  
phone and by the time they got off the El, he didn't anymore.

Jake laughed as Mickey handed him his phone. He looked down at the picture of the couple on  
their wedding day that Mickey had set as his wallpaper. Ian was on the picnic table, his knees on  
either side of Mickey, who was sitting on the bench below him. The redhead's chin was resting on  
the top of Mickey's head and his arms were draped over his shoulders loosely. Tattooed hands  
held onto Ian's elbows, while their smiles beamed, "You two idiots look happy as hell," Jake said  
as he added typed in his number.

"We are," Mickey confirmed as Jake handed him he phone back.

"Hit me up if you want me to write it," Jake said dropping the cigarette, stomping it out and  
walking towards the front door.

"Hey Jake," Mickey called before he could disappear beyond it, "Thanks."

The cop gave him a salute and a half grin before heading inside.

By the time Mickey got home he was an hour late, carrying cold pizza and no beer.

"The fuck happened to you?" Ian chided, uncurling his legs and climbing off the chair so he could  
take the food out of his hands.

"Hey to you, too," Mickey mumbled, annoyed but not surprised by the chilly reception. He waved  
at Tim and Sam, who were sitting on the couch playing Doom.

"We missed you," Sam said a smirk on his face, clearly aware that he was stirring the pot.  
Mickey gave him the finger before following Ian into the kitchen. He was putting the pizza onto  
plates when Mickey came up behind him, wrapping his arms around his waist and kissing the  
cloth over his shoulder blade, "Sorry I'm late," He whispered, "Give me a kiss."

Ian reluctantly turned around and allowed himself to be kissed, "How'd it go?" He asked when  
they pulled apart.

"Kinda interesting I guess. Ginn told me that he thinks I'm a good candidate for Early Termination  
of Parole."

"What's that?"

"Basically I get a lawyer, fill out a shit ton of paperwork and they might let me off parole early."

"No shit," Ian exclaimed, his face lighting up, "That's amazing, Mick."

"Ain't guaranteed, but guess worth a shot," Mickey replied with a shrug. He paused gnawing on  
the inside of his cheek, debating whether he should fill Ian in on the rest or wait until later, "Ran  
into Jake there," he stated, biting the bullet.

"Oh yeah?" Ian lifted his eyebrows and looked at Mickey expectantly, "How was that?"

"Alright I guess. Told him about the Early Term and he offered to write a letter of reference for  
me or somethin'. Could be good since he's a cop," Mickey said, trying to sound nonchalant.

"Wait," Ian narrowed his eyes, "You told him about it before you told me?"

"I mean, he was there and knows about this shit, so..." His voice dropped off when he saw the  
tell-tale clenching of his husband's jaw, "Oh c'mon, Ian, don't be like that."

"Let me get this straight," He cleared his throat, his eyes burning into Mickey's, "you were late  
because you were talking to your ex-fuckin-boyfriend who you told some big fucking news to  
before you even told me and now he's randomly offering to do you a huge ass favor?"

"Stop," Mickey urged, grabbing Ian's hand as he reached for the plates of pizza. He shook him off  
with a huff, "It's not..." he rubbed his forehead and sighed aware that Ian was passed the point of  
reasoning.

"And you forgot the fucking beer," Ian chided.

"You're not supposed to drink anyway," Mickey reminded him.

Ian got in his face, only inches away, "For our guests," he hissed, squeezing Mickey's cheeks  
together so his lips puckered like a fish, "Anything else, Mick?"

"About the beer or Jake?" Mickey asked his voice distorted by the hold that Ian had on his face.  
He knocked his hands off of him and reached down to grasp them a little too tightly.

"There's more?" Ian asked taken aback by the revelation. He tried to shake Mickey's hands off of  
him, but his grip was too strong.

"Had to get his number so I can tell him what we decide about the letter," Mickey stated, watching  
as rage distorted his husband's typically angelic face into that of a demon.

"Get the fuck off of me," He snarled jolting his knee up towards Mickey's junk causing him to  
drop his hands and protect the goods. The redhead pushed him up against the refrigerator, his  
forearm pressed against the brunet's collarbones, "The only reason I'm not fucking destroying you  
right now is because our friends are here. Don't even fucking look at me." With that Ian angrily  
grabbed the plates and headed back out towards the living room.

Mickey rubbed his chest where Ian had pushed against him a little too hard and sighed. He knew  
when he got like this he was in trouble and he wasn't even sure it was the good kind, "Fuck," he  
muttered, collecting himself before he went in there to play nice.

"You hear about Marty?" Tim asked Mickey as he sat down in the chair that Ian had previously  
occupied. His husband was now sitting on the couch with the other two men, eating pizza, his  
face as red as the sauce.

"What's up with the fat fuck?" He questioned, his eyes trained on Ian who was refusing to look  
back at him.

"Kyle finally canned him," Tim replied, his mouth half full of pizza, "Found out about Angelo  
and a bunch of the other guys."

"No shit," Mickey mused, pleasantly surprised.

"Yeah, it's great. Jack's manager now and he's cool as hell."

"Hell's hot," Sam reminded his boyfriend with a laugh.

"Your Nebraska is showing," Tim teased as Sam kissed him on the cheek, "Seriously though, got  
your old stool saved, man. Drinks on me."

"Sounds good," Mickey replied.

"Everyone misses you," He said to Ian, "Always asking how you are. They'd love to see you."

Ian nodded, "We're both off Thursday night, so maybe we'll swing by."

As much as Mickey wasn't interested in returning to the Fairy Tale, he was relieved that Ian was  
including him in the plans. At least he intended to partially get over the Jake shit in the next two  
days.

For the next hour, the men bullshitted and Mickey attempted to engage his pissed off husband  
without much success. Noticing the very obvious tension, Sam and Tim made an early exit telling  
the couple that they'd see them in a few days.

"Go prep yourself," Ian directed as he locked the door.

"We're not gonna talk about this?" Mickey asked crossing the room so that he could rest his hand  
tenderly on Ian's cheek, "You know I love you."

"Go prep yourself," Ian repeated, his voice low and deadly, "and do a good job because I'm  
gonna tear that ass up. Remind you who it belongs to."

Mickey stood there for a moment, debating on whether he should attempt to explain himself again  
or just give in and allow himself to get hate fucked, "Think we should probably talk about this..."  
he began earning a look of disapproval from Ian.

"Did I slur my fucking words?" He snapped, his eyes stormy with anger. A small part of Mickey  
wanted to punch Ian in the face when he talked to him like that, but the overwhelming majority of  
him got really fucking turned on. Hate fucked it was.

He hightailed it into the bedroom, eager with anticipation to get himself ready for the beating he  
was about to take. The work he was doing with his fingers and the fire he'd seen behind Ian's eyes  
had him pretty fucking horny by the time the redhead came into the room. He watched as he  
peeled off his T-shirt and then pulled down his shorts and boxer briefs. Mickey licked his lips at  
the sight of Ian's thick, perfect cock standing hard as hell, ready to give him a pounding, "Look  
really sexy, baby," Mickey complimented attempting to disarm with the term of endearment, "Let  
me taste you."

"No thanks," Ian said cooly, pushing Mickey's shoulders back onto the bed and climbing on top  
of him so that his face was a breath away, "Don't let sluts suck my dick."

"That right?" Mickey scoffed, letting his hands travel up Ian's muscular back, "Fucking bitch."

"Hmm," Ian hummed, gnawing on his bottom lip, "Could always ask the cop to let you suck his  
cock. I'm sure he'd let you. Bet you dropped down to your knees all the time for him, right?"

"You wanna know?" Mickey instigated, raising his eyebrows in challenge, "How often I did,  
or...?"

"Fuck you," Ian growled both enraged and frazzled by his husband's response. He leaned even  
closer so his lips could ghost over Mickey's, "Probably sucked his dick like you were desperate  
for mine," he whispered hotly, continuing to slide his body up until he was leaning over him, his  
cock laying heavy across Mickey's mouth "cause I know you missed this." He gripped the base of  
his dick and slapped it against Mickey's closed lips, "Open up. Want you to show me how good  
you sucked his cock."

"You're fucking sick, you know that?" Mickey grumbled, trying not to open his mouth too much.

"You married me, what's that make you? Hmm?" He traced the tip of of his dripping cock against  
Mickey's lips leaving a sticky trail and prompted him to "lick it off." The brunet obliged opening  
his mouth so he could taste the precum. Before he could prepare for it, the tip of Ian's cock was  
pushing past his lips followed by the length of his shaft until he was resting down his throat, "This  
mouth's mine." He rolled his hips so he could push himself even further down Mickey's throat,  
while the brunet worked to relax his gag reflex as he did. Ian started to roll his hips against his  
husband's cheeks as he fucked into his face, "This fucking throat," he said with a dramatic shove  
that pushed against the ridges in the back of his mouth, "mine." He leaned forward so he could  
grasp onto the top of their headboard and began to hump his mouth at a brutal pace, balls slapping  
against his chin rhythmically. He let out a relieved moan as he did, allowing one of his hands to  
fall to Mickey's hair and crooning, "Fuck, you take it so good. Take it so fucking good for me."  
His hips stuttered as Mickey clenched his fingers into his ass and pushed him in deeper, "Holy  
fucking shit," Ian cried, letting out a series of wrecked moans as Mickey took over guiding his  
hips with his hands, "Such a perfect cocksucker."

Mickey mumbled something around his dick, that Ian couldn't understand, so he pulled it out and  
looked down at him waiting for him to repeat it. He cleared his throat and licked his stretched,  
chapped lips, "Only for your perfect cock."

Ian laughed contemptuously as he dismounted, "Trying to kiss my ass now?"

"Sit on my face and I will," Mickey replied flicking his eyebrows up and giving him a wicked  
grin.

"Cute," Ian said, though it was evident in his tone that he didn't think it was, "Let's see how cute  
you are when I fuck you in half."

He squirted a ridiculous amount of lube onto his dick and stroked himself until he was completely  
slick.

Mickey gasped as Ian yanked his ankles and pulled them up so they were almost touching his  
shoulders, leaving asshole presented and exposed.

Ian stared down at it for a moment, causing Mickey to wonder what the hell he was looking at.  
Out of nowhere Ian spit into the hole and then moved both Mickey's legs into one of his fists so  
that he could use his other hand to whack his hole with his weighty cock. Mickey felt his own  
cock twitch as Ian steadied himself to slap his ass with his dick again. Without a word, he  
mounted his ass, knees bent on either side of Mickey's hips and pushed into him with one fluid  
glide. Mickey felt his legs shake at the sensation of being so full and let out a pleasured moan.  
Ian's cadence was slow and steady at first, building up gradually to a pulsing beat. Between the  
visual of Ian's ab and thigh muscles flexing and the feeling of being drilled so deep, Mickey was  
pretty sure he wouldn't last long, "Think you forgot that this shit is mine, Mick. Hmmm? You  
forget who. this. ass. belongs. to?" He asked punctuating each word with a plunging stroke.

"No, no," Mickey cried throwing his head back in ecstasy, "Belongs to you.. oh fuck, I belong to  
you."

Ian grinned and started to jackhammer into Mickey at a punishing pace, pushing back on the  
brunet's legs as he did so that while he was banging into him, the tip of his cock rubbed against  
own chest steadily, ready to paint his skin with cum, "Mine. You're fucking mine."

"I'm yours," Mickey confirmed, moaning as Ian dropped one of his legs so he could outline his  
lips with his thumb and then push it into the brunet's hungry mouth. Mickey's sucked hard on the  
right, his breath becoming shallow and his whole body beginning to quiver with his impending  
release, "I'm gonna cum." Though Mickey didn't think it would be possible, somehow his  
husband managed to sink into him deeper and deeper, each strike hitting his prostate and  
completing ending him, "I'm fucking done, man," He sighed, arching his back as much as he  
could in the position he was being held in and keening as he blew his load all over his neck and  
chest.

Ian reached behind him to grab Mickey's loose leg again so he could fold him up. It took a few  
more thrusts until he was shaking through his own release. He remained inside of Mickey for a  
moment, giving his husband a dirty look, chin jutted as he tried to catch his breath. After he was  
sure Mickey caught sight of his annoyance he shimmied himself out of his ass slowly and watched  
as his cum pooled in the displayed hole.

Mickey's eyes grew wide as he watched Ian look down at his opening, completely mesmerized.  
He dipped his thumb into the puddle and swiped out a good amount of his cum, before leaning  
down to suction his mouth over Mickey's gape and sucking, "Jesus fucking Christ Ian, the fuck  
are you doing?" He cried, partially disgusted but mostly wrecked by the fact that Ian was rimming  
his messy asshole and it felt fucking awesome. Ian brought his face up and slid up Mickey's body  
so he was looking straight in his eyes. He pushed his cum covered thumb into his lover's mouth  
and gazed at him as he licked it clean. When Ian felt satisfied that he'd gotten it all, he removed it  
from his mouth, leaving Mickey to utter with a grin, "Goddamn Gallagher, gotta piss you off more  
often."

Wordlessly, Ian climbed off of him and stormed into the bathroom.

Mickey laid there bewildered by his husband's behavior. "Or not..."

Chapter Thirteen: In Bed

Sometime in the middle of the night Mickey felt long limbs envelop him. Arms were first,  
wrapping around his chest protectively. Then came legs intertwining with his own and pulling him  
in tighter. Lips peppered his jawline with kisses, "I love you," Ian whispered, his voice heavy with  
sincerity.

The hours prior had been tense, with Ian avoiding the bedroom and Mickey avoiding Ian, unsure  
of what he could say to assuage his anger. It's not that he didn't understand, after-all, he struggled  
with jealousy too, but Ian's reaction had been over the top, even for him. He wanted to ask him if  
he was feeling balanced, but he knew that would just pour gasoline on the fire. Instead, he decided  
that he needed to focus more closely, watch for signs.

Mickey turned over so that he was facing his husband and rested his hand on his cheek, "The fuck  
was all that all about?" He asked, concern evident in his tone.

"I..." he began, closing his eyes to collect the thoughts that were bouncing around his mind, none  
feeling explanatory enough to divulge, "can't think of you with him."

"Why the fuck would you?" Mickey scoffed, scrunching his eyebrows down and narrowing his  
eyes, "We're fucking married, Ian."

"I know, but that doesn't mean you won't decide choosing me was a mistake," Ian said softly.

"Why are you even..." Mickey started, letting out a heavy sigh and rubbing his forehead with  
frustration, "Why would you ever think that?"

"Because I'm complicated..."

"You are," Mickey confirmed.

"And a lot to handle."

"Yup."

"He's really hot," Ian continued with a grimace. He wondered if it would have been easier for him  
if he wasn't attracted to Jake; if he'd found it impossible to understand what Mickey had seen in  
him.

"Mmmhmm," Mickey hummed, flicking his nostril with his finger. He knew there was no use  
denying it.

"And he's got a good job," Ian added.

"He does."

"He can write you this letter... I can't do anything like that for you." The defeat was apparent in  
his eyes.

"You're right," He stated matter-of-factly, reaching for Ian's left hand so he could trace his finger  
over his ring, "Anything else?"

"You said he was good to you," Ian replied, taking a sputtering inhale.

"He was," Mickey agreed, tangling his fingers into Ian's hair and looking directly in his eyes, "But  
he's not you." Ian exhaled at the vehemence in Mickey's assertion, "Only you for me, man."

"Fucking kills me that he had you," Ian confessed. Every time he was tortured by thoughts of  
Mickey fucking around with Jake he ended up feeling incredibly nauseous.

"You think I like knowing that you were gonna fucking marry Daddy Warbucks, Annie?" He  
shot back, tousling Ian's hair.

"He adopted her. They weren't fucking, she was like 8," Ian informed him, a smile curling up on  
his lips.

"Whatever...that the fuckin' point?" Mickey scoffed, "What if I would've had to do 15? By the  
time I got outta the can you'd be married with little Asian kids and a fucking gold shitter."

"I would've found you..we would've found each other. You're the love of my life. I wouldn't have  
just not been with you," Ian reasoned closing the minuscule gap between their faces and pressing  
his lips against the brunet's.

"You would've left your husband?" Mickey asked skeptically, breaking away from the kiss,  
"Your kids?"

"Why are we talking about this?" Ian frowned, not wanting to let his mind go to that place. The  
idea of living his life without Mickey was unfathomable. Even while they were apart and things  
had felt permanent, somehow deep down he knew that they weren't. He would never truly forgive  
himself for not standing by Mickey while he was in prison. He should have been there every  
weekend, every holiday. Leaving him when things got complicated and then turning his back on  
him when he needed him the most, would be a torment that he'd never be able to find relief from.

"Cause this is the shit I think about. You think about your dumb shit and I think about mine,"  
Mickey said biting his lower lip.

"I couldn't live without you," Ian whispered.

"You don't think I feel the same way, Ian?"

"I know you do," He moved back in to gently pull at Mickey's bottom lip with his teeth, "Maybe  
we love each other too much," he suggested before sliding his tongue into his husband's mouth  
and kissing him passionately. Mickey eagerly reciprocated, bringing his hands up to hold the  
redhead's lightly freckled cheeks, "Need you," Ian breathed pushing on Mickey's hips so he'd turn  
on his side, facing away from him.

"Show me how much," Mickey crooned, shedding his underwear as Ian did the same, both  
desperate to feel connected. Emotions were difficult, but sex was easy. When they were younger  
their bodies had bonded long before their hearts did. When everything became overwhelming, the  
most effective way of dealing with it was to fasten themselves together, go at the other's pace, and  
let their bodies get lost in the movement, exist in the sensation.

Ian licked two of his fingers getting them nice and wet before dropping his hand down so he could  
check Mickey's readiness. He hummed his appreciation when he realized he was still pretty loose  
from the pounding he gave him a few hours earlier. He moved as close to him as possible, resting  
his lips on his shoulder and pressing his chest against his back as he fingered him slowly. The  
raspy moans escaping Mickey's mouth were getting him insanely worked up. Nothing made him  
love their shitty apartment more than the sounds Mickey made when they fucked. In their space,  
they could be free with their bodies in a way they'd never had an opportunity to be when they  
were teenagers. Though his husband was typically very vocal in bed, with his dirty talk and filthy  
groans, in the still darkness of their bedroom, he was hushed and breathy. As he pushed his length  
into him, Mickey exhaled and tilted his head back so he could rest the cradle of his skull against  
Ian's shoulder, "Fuck, I love you Ian, you know how much I fucking love you, dontchu?" His  
words were punctuated by a series of soft grunts as Ian shoved in deep, stretching and filling him.

"I know," Ian assured him, reaching under his arm so he could grab his opposite shoulder forming  
a shield as he rolled his hips into him, "Holy shit," He groaned as Mickey constricted around him,  
"I know."

"Would never hurt you," Mickey promised, reaching back so he could grasp the back of Ian's  
head and pull him down.

The redhead craned his neck so he could tilt to catch Mickey's lips, gasping when the brunet took  
his tongue and moved his mouth like he was sucking him off. Mickey could feel his husband's  
cock twitch and throb deep inside of him. Needing more he tangled his tongue with Ian's, kissing  
him lustfully, "Love you. Lucky you love me," Ian murmured when they peeled their lips apart,  
short of breath. He dropped his head so he could lick and kiss Mickey's neck sloppily while he  
continued to rock into him.

Mickey tilted his chin to the side to provide him more access and laid his arm over Ian's, clasping  
onto his hand so they were resting together on his shoulder. Ian dropped his free hand down to  
Mickey's swollen cock and began to jerk him off with the same slow pace he was fucking him at,  
"Fill me up, man," Mickey whined, closing his eyes tight as he felt himself getting close to his  
release.

"You ready?" He groaned, the familiar tremor moving through his legs as his balls got tighter.

"Give it to me deep. Wanna feel it all over," Mickey purred, loving the way their bodies had  
grown sticky with sweat, becoming an adhesive that held them together.

"So perfect for me," Ian complimented, submersing his cock into his husband, his pubic hair  
brushing against full ass cheeks. He nudged into his prostate repeatedly, causing Mickey's whole  
body to quiver as his panting grew more rapid. He held onto Ian's hand tighter as the redhead  
moaned and shot hot streams into him. Ian continued to work him, thrusting through his orgasm so  
he could push the cum out of his husband.

"Holy shit," Mickey groaned as he hit his climax, painting the bed sheets and the carpet below  
with his release. They laid like that, a heaping, heaving pile of limbs, as they basked in the  
afterglow, "That was fucking good, Gallagher," he said turning over to face his out of breath  
husband.

"Milkovich," Ian corrected with a smirk, "Yours."

"Mine," Mickey confirmed kissing him sweetly, "Light one."

Ian reached over to the bedside table and lit a cigarette placing it between between Mickey's lips.  
He watched as his cheeks hollowed and smoke escaped his nose, "So, what are the chances that  
you'll get the..." he searched for the word, unable to find it feeling bad that his jealousy had kept  
him from paying the news the attention it deserved.

"Early Termination of Parole," Mickey filled in handing the cigarette to Ian, "Ginn seems to think  
it could happen. Gotta get a letter from Luca and, you know, Jake."  
Ian nodded, "Yeah, you do. Anything that'll help."

Mickey reached his hand up to ruffle Ian's hair, "You got me, ok?" He reassured him, "Nobody or  
nothing's ever gonna fuck that up."

"Not even me?" Ian asked passing the cigarette back to Mickey so he could snuggle his face into  
the crook of his neck and drape his arm around his bare chest.

"Nah, you know I can handle that ass," Mickey said with a grin, reaching around to squeeze Ian's  
butt cheek playfully, "Got you under control."

Ian chuckled and then tucked himself back in, "Hate when we fight," he said softly, running his  
fingers up and down Mickey's skin.

"The fuck you do, Firecrotch," Mickey punched out a laugh, "You like to get your little drama  
queen ass worked up so you can rage out and fuck me like an animal."

"Fuck you," He retorted, without malice, "Work you like that even when I'm not pissed. You  
complaining?"

"Course I'm not complainin'" Mickey replied, "Just the facts."

"Oh yeah."

"Mmm," Mickey hummed, knowing damn well he was instigating.

"Gonna fuck you just like that tomorrow, remind you that I don't need to be mad."

"Whatever, Milkovich," Mickey said nonchalantly, the smile on his face giving him away.

Chapter Fourteen: Birds and the Bees

“Mick,” Ian whispered leaning over the bed so he could give his husband a kiss on his cheek, “I  
gotta go.”

Mickey grumbled something incoherently, pulling a pillow over his head so he could block out the  
early morning sunlight that was streaming through their bedroom curtains.

“Have a good day with Yev and make sure to get groceries.”

The reminder of their his honey-do list caused Mickey to let out an unimpressed groan.

“Suck it up, buttercup,” Ian grinned, “Alright, I love you.”

“Don’t drop any trays,” Mickey mumbled.

“If you just fucking jinxed me I’m gonna beat that ass later,” Ian warned playfully, giving the  
brunet a smack on his butt.

“That don’t sound so bad,” Mickey said lifting up the pillow and raising his eyebrows at his  
laughing husband. Ian ducked down pecking Mickey’s lips sweetly, “Have a good day.”

“Tell Yev I say hi,” Ian directed as he grabbed his backpack and headed out of the bedroom,

“Love you!” He called, throwing a banana and granola bar into his bag.

“Love you, too.” Mickey replied, sitting up so he could stretch out his back. He sighed when he  
heard a crack and twisted in the other direction. He knew that attempting to sleep without Ian  
would be fruitless, so he pushed himself to get out of bed and lift weights. He hated how difficult  
it had become for him to be in the shitty apartment without Ian. He wasn’t a clingy little bitch, but  
fuck if he didn’t feel like one sometimes. When he was alone, his mind would immediately pull  
him back to prison, the feelings of loneliness, the pain of solitude. He had been surrounded by  
other men yet he’d never felt more isolated. Though his husband was a talkative fucker, he didn’t  
even need to speak to set Mickey at ease; it was the proximity that settled him. He focused on the  
burn in his bicep as he curled the dumbbell and tried not to think about how empty the space felt.  
He lifted until he arms wobbled like Jello and then moved onto crunches, burpees, and more  
lunges than were probably necessary since his husband was already obsessed with his ass.  
After scarfing down some Pringles and jumping in the shower, he headed over to Svetlana’s to  
pick up Yevgeny. As soon as he stepped out the door, he regretted suggesting that they toss  
around the baseball. It was humid as fuck and hot as hell. Maybe he’d convince him to come over  
and play Doom. He figured that wouldn’t be such a hard sell.

He rapped on the door a few times before Yevgeny opened it and smiled up at his father “Hey.”

“Hey yourself, you ready to go?” Mickey asked, amused by the fact that they were both in grey  
muscle tanks and black basketball shorts, “You got a hat and water? It’s balls hot out here, man.”

“Hang on,” Yev said ducking into the house so he could grab his Sox hat, glove, ball and water  
bottle. He shut the door behind him and they started walking towards the baseball field.

“You excited for the playoffs?” He asked lighting up a cigarette and taking a puff.

“Kinda,” Yev replied with a disinterested shrug, kicking a rock across the sidewalk.

“It’s a big deal, right? Not every team makes it,” Mickey probed, “Don’t seem too into it…”

“I dunno.”

It was times like these that Mickey wished Svetlana, Ian, Mandy or anyone else with a fucking  
mouth was around. He had grown a lot more comfortable around Yevgeny as the months passed,  
but he still didn’t really know how to get to the bottom of his emotions. He was pretty sure that  
something was wrong, but he didn’t know how to properly get it out of him, “Someone fucking  
with you?”

“Huh?” Yev asked, looking up at him confused.

“You know, messing with you? Talking shit?” Mickey clarified, lifting his eyebrows, “Some  
dickhead makin’ you feel bad?”

“Oh,” He nodded, clearing his throat, “Uh, yeah. I guess.”

“Hmm,” Mickey hummed, tapping tattooed fingers nervously against his thigh. The thought of  
some little shit picking on his kid caused irritation and anger to course through his body. Yevgeny  
was small. He was easily the shortest kid on the team and maybe even the most vertically  
challenged in his class. Knowing that there wasn’t a ton of hope that the kid was going to be a tall  
guy, Mickey conceded that he’d have to teach him how to deal with assholes properly, “You  
know how to throw a punch?”

Yev shook his head, “Not really.”

“Then we’ll have to fix that,” Mickey said grinning at his son, “C’mon.”

He took Yevgeny to the shitty apartment and taught him how to fuck a face up with a jab, cross  
and an uppercut, “We’ll work on the overhand and the hook next week,” Mickey assured his son  
taking a sip of his Gatorade, “Sound good?” He finally felt like he understood something about  
parenting. This he could handle, “Who’s the asshole, anyway?”

“Guy on my team named Spencer,” He replied crunching on a Pringle.

“Did you tell him that’s a stupid fucking name? Because it is. Real nerdy,” Mickey scoffed.  
Yevgeny laughed a little and tilted his head to indicate that he didn’t.

“He call you ‘Shrimp Cocktail,’ ‘Short Stack’ or some dumb shit like that?” He asked rolling his  
eyes and huffing. While he was growing up, it didn’t take long for other kids to learn that one  
comment about his stature would have them picking up all their teeth off the ground. All of a  
sudden they looked at him like he was the tallest motherfucker in the room.

“Why would he do that?” Yevgeny questioned scrunching his face up as though he was baffled.

“Oh, um, I dunno… just guessing,” He covered, glad that it didn’t seem to be about his height,

“What’d he say then?” The child looked increasingly uncomfortable, hardly able to look at his  
father in the eyes and Mickey grew more suspicious. His stomach dropped to his feet when he  
realized what it could be, “’bout me, Yevvy? Cause if it is, it ain’t gonna hurt my feelings, ok?”  
Yev bit his lower lip, not denying that it was.

Mickey sat in silence, waiting for Yevgeny to speak, not wanting to push too hard because he  
already fucking knew. It was several minutes before he opened his mouth.

“He’s a really dumb kid,” Yev reasoned with a shrug.

“Yeah, what’d the really dumb kid have to say?” Mickey asked flicking the side of his nostril with  
the pad of his finger.

“He said my dad’s a fag, so I’m a fag, too,” Yevgeny muttered softly, staring down at the worn  
carpet, “and that we both like to get big dicks in our butt.”

Of all the punches that had been thrown that day, the hit to Mickey’s stomach after Yevgeny  
repeated what Spencer said was the most brutal of all. It was one thing to have people talk shit to  
him for being gay, but it was a whole different level of frustration and hurt when he realized that  
his son was getting picked on because of him. He ignored the churning in his stomach and the sick  
taste in his mouth so that he could say, “Sorry he said that shit to you.”

“It’s ok,” Yevgeny frowned, “He’s stupid.”

“Sounds like it,” Mickey agreed, “Know what you should tell him?”

Yev looked at him, blue eyes curious.

“That your dad’s been to prison and he ain’t afraid to go back,” Mickey stated simply, “Then you  
give him a jab, jab, uppercut and when he’s on the ground, you kick him hard in the ass and spit  
on his fucking face. A really fucking nasty ass loogie. Won’t fuck with you again.”

His lips turned up in a half smile, “Think it’ll work?”

“Know it will,” Mickey confirmed, biting his lip and trying really hard to keep it together.  
“Can I ask you something?” He asked tentatively taking a sip of his blue Gatorade and readjusting  
himself on the couch.

Mickey really wanted to be done with the conversation. He wanted to walk Yev back home and  
twist himself up into a tornado of emotion, fucking up everything in his path. Instead, he had to act  
like a fucking adult and it was wearing on him, “Yeah?”

“You’ve always been gay, right?”

Mickey nodded, “Probably.”

“Did you ever like girls?”

“Nope.” He was unsure of where the train of questioning was headed, but he really hoped it didn’t  
end up with questions about dicks in asses.

“I know that men and women have sex to make babies. So how did you and mom end up making  
me if you don’t like girls?” He asked screwing his eyebrows down, “I don’t get it.”

Just when he thought that shit couldn’t get worse, it did. He cleared his throat uncomfortably and  
pursed his lips, “Uh, I guess I tried to fool myself into thinkin’ that I liked girls or something.  
Pretend I wasn’t gay.”

“There’s nothing wrong with being gay, though, so why’d you think you needed to pretend?” He  
pressed.

“My dad wasn’t that nice of a guy,” He replied vaguely.

“So mom was in love with you?” Yevgeny pushed.

Mickey let out a sardonic laugh, but held himself back from taking a jab at the kid’s mother, “Nah,  
don’t think she liked me much.”

“You’re supposed to have sex with people you love. You were pretending, but why did mom  
have sex with you if she didn’t love you?”

His head began to pound so intensely that he thought his brain was going to burst out of his skull.

A feverish, shakiness flooded his body and he knew he was fucking done, “You’re askin’ too  
many fucking questions,” He snapped, feeling even worse when he saw Yev’s face fall to the  
floor, “Hey- listen, it’s just shit I don’t like talking about too much, ok?”  
Yevgeny nodded his head slowly.

“Wanna play some Doom?” Mickey asked giving him a weak smile. It was the opposite of what  
he wanted to be doing, but he knew it would’ve been fucked up to take the kid home after he just  
opened up to him.

“Alright,” Yev replied screwing the top onto his bottle and grabbing a controller.

“Get it started. I’m just gonna go take a piss.” He scrambled off the couch and walked on shaky  
legs to the bathroom. Hunching over the sink, he cupped his hands and splashed his face with cold  
water before picking up a towel, drying himself off, leaning back against the wall and sliding  
down to the floor. With trembling hands he took his phone out of his pocket and hit Ian’s name.  
He was relieved when he picked up on the fourth ring.

“Mick?” Ian answered, full of concern. It was out of the ordinary for either of them to call the  
other while they were at work because texting was much more convenient.

“I fucked everything up,” Mickey said his voice so small that Ian barely recognized it.

“What?! What happened? Are you ok?” He questioned, moving into a full blown panic.  
He sniffed and pressed the heels of his hands against his eyes, “He kept pushing for answers and I  
didn’t know what the fuck to say.”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” Ian sighed, “Take a deep breath and tell me, alright?”

“Fuck it. I’m fine,” He said shaking his head as if he was getting rid of the thoughts.

“No, you’re not gonna do that. Fucking tell me right now,” Ian demanded, “Do you want me to  
come home?”

“I’m not a fucking bitch, Gallagher,” Mickey spat, his emotions too all over the place to pin down.

“I know you’re not,” Ian reassured him, “I know you’re not.”

“Yev was asking about where the fuck he came from…”

“No, shit. The birds and the bees?”

“Fuck, no Ian. He already knows about that. He wanted to know why his father, who likes the  
fucking stinger, fucked his mother,” Mickey snapped, rolling his eyes at how dense his husband  
was.

“Oh shit.”

“Yeah, oh shit.”

“Did you tell him?”

“No I didn’t fucking tell him. Not really…” Mickey replied, so wound up that he wasn’t entirely  
sure what the fuck had come out of his mouth, "And some kid on his team was talking shit to him  
about his dad liking big dicks in his ass."

"He said 'big'?"

Mickey let out a choked laugh in spite of himself, "Fuck you dickhead."

"Made you laugh though," Ian said gently, “You’re on dinner tonight, right? Want me to hang  
out, so we can talk?”

“Nah, we’ll talk about it when I get home later, ain’t gonna get started on this shit at work,” He let  
out a sputtering sigh, “I gotta go. He’s still here.”

“I love you, Mick.”

“Love you, too,” He said, rising to his feet and steeling himself to go back out there and kick his  
kid’s ass at Doom.

Chapter Fifteen: Nightmare

It started in the closet. He was four years old and trembling with fear, cheek still throbbing from  
the blow. Though the darkness still scared him, he felt safer cloaked in it than he did in the light.  
The light meant that he could see him and if he could see him, he would strike him. He didn't want  
to get hit again. He could hardly breathe. The air was stale. He heard him yelling, voice rumbling  
through the house, shaking the walls, prompting him to build his own. He'd always hated him the  
most, maybe he knew before Mickey did; saw it in him before either one of them wanted to admit  
it. Footsteps drew nearer and the door swung open, "You can't hide from me, faggot." Broken  
arms, cracked collarbones, bruised ribs. Sad, knowing eyes at the clinic. Fuck their pity. He didn't  
need it, needed to be saved instead.

Curled up on the grass, body turned in on itself as they kicked the hell out of him. Pounding  
beatdowns, stronger and taller. Though his mouth was big, his body was small, "We gotta get you  
a knife," Colin said once he left them bloodied and beat.

Knives carving into flesh, it got easier with time. He was broader, tattooed fingers clenched into  
fists, crushing bones, FUCK U UP. But never strong enough with him.  
The pleasure of Ian pushing in, the pain of the pistol whip, forced to penetrate her pussy. The pool  
of tears in peridot eyes. He loved him, so he flipped her over, needing it to end. Conception.  
He pressed and pushed though he tried to walk away. He wouldn't stop so he punched that  
beautiful face. Panting and pained, "You love me and you're gay' He did and he was. Walking  
down the aisle, living a lie. He told him he was leaving. "Don't." But he did.

Kisses and cuddles, once he was back, needing him to stay. "I'm fucking gay." He charged like a  
bull; Broken chairs and bloody faces. His soldier by his side, until he wasn't. He laid in bed next  
to him, his mind pulling him miles away. He took Yevgeny and then they took him. He couldn't  
stop them, torn from his grasp. Panic pounded down on him, nothing he could do. Powerless and  
terrified standing on the dark street, watching his light carted away.

"This is it, huh?" Wanting to beg, needing the answer to be different. He made him free and then  
he wasn't. Tossed in a cell, cold and alone, shaking hands carved his name into his skin; the  
promise of forever while facing seemingly endless days, months, and years without him.  
Shards of glass slicing his palms. The love of his life, committing to another man, watching a  
smile light up his face while his hands dripped with blood.

Fingers intertwined, decisions that would bind them together for life. They stood in the park  
saying their vows, not realizing that the grass they were standing on was his. Arms shot up from  
the Earth, grabbing his ankles and dragging him down. Face to face with sunken eyes, snarling  
lips, singed skin. Fire surrounded them, engulfing and burning, as his voice rumbled once again,  
"You can't hide from me, faggot."

Ian was awakened by Mickey thrashing around the bed, desperately trying to kick the comforter  
and sheets off. He was whining and panting but his eyes were tightly shut. "Hey," he said,  
springing up to a seated position so he could pull Mickey up by his armpits and wrap protective  
arms around his chest while whispering in his ear reassuringly, "Hey, hey. I got you."  
Mickey's eyes shot open and darted around the moonlit room, confused, "He's not here, baby. I'm  
here, ok?" He pushed back the hair that was matted to his sweaty forehead and sighed when he  
felt his heart rate begin to slow, "I'm here."

"Fuck," He groaned, pressing his fingers against the bridge of his nose, "felt really fucking real."

"I'm sorry," Ian empathized, letting go of his release so he could rub his arms soothingly and kiss  
his shoulder, "Same one?"

Mickey nodded, "Prick's dead and still fucking with me."

"You should really go talk..."

"Not fucking now, Ian. C'mon," Mickey chided still trying to even his breath.

"I just think it would help," He continued gently.

Mickey closed his eyes, determined not to get into it any further with him. They'd had the same  
fight about therapy more times than he cared to admit. They'd throw insults at each other with  
Mickey calling Ian a "pushy bitch" and Ian telling Mickey he was "a fucking hypocrite," leading  
them both to stew in anger for the rest of the night.

"I'll stop," He relented, kissing the top of Mickey's head, "Just hate that you gotta deal with this."

"I know," Mickey whispered back, "Probably the Yev shit getting me all fucked up."

"Sounded intense."

"It was."

By the time Mickey got home from work that night, he didn't want to rehash the conversation with  
his concerned husband. Instead he just wanted Ian to fuck it all away. So he did. Twice. Maybe  
three times would've been the charm.

"Wanna talk about it?" Ian asked, continuing to pepper any of the skin his lips could reach with  
kisses.

"Not right now."

They laid there for a while in a safe silence, Mickey getting his bearings and Ian steadying him as  
he did. Though Mickey's nightmares weren't a nightly event, they happened often enough that  
they'd established a routine. Unable to stop his mind from going there, Ian wondered how Jake  
had handled Mickey's nightmares. Had he rubbed his back and told him everything would be  
alright? How would have he been able to comfort him without knowing the first fucking thing  
about Mickey's life? There was no way Jake could've understood Mickey the way that he did.  
Though he and Mickey both had countless terrible days in their lives, the day Terry stormed in on  
them was no doubt the scariest. They'd spent the night before connecting on levels they hadn't  
reached before. They kissed until their lips were raw and slept tangled up in the other's arms. It  
was as if they were making up for the years they'd spent holding back from letting themselves go.  
The contrast between how euphoric they'd felt that night and what happened later that morning  
was jarring. It moved them backwards in a lot of ways, but bonded them for life in the way that  
only tragedies can. For better or worse and they'd been through the worst. When it came down to  
it, they still found each other. The reminder of how layered their relationship was settled Ian's  
mind and finally forced him to acknowledge that he would always be the man of Mickey's life.  
Jake or any other fucker would never be able to touch what they had built.

"Gonna get you some water," Ian said peeling his body off of Mickey's and climbing out of bed.  
The brunet laid back and pulled the covers around his body.

"Cigarettes too," Mickey's added, voice muffled by the pillow. Before leaving the room Ian turned  
on the lamp on the nightstand and patted the lump hidden under the blankets.

He glanced at the clock on the microwave: 4:00a.m. He was glad that they both had the day and  
night off, because he knew that it would be hard to get Mickey back to sleep. He didn't blame  
him. If he closed his eyes and saw a monster he would want to keep them open, too. Most  
common nightmares consisted of being embarrassed in public or some supernatural force. It broke  
his heart that his husband's nightmares centered around his fucked up life. More than anything he  
felt guilty that he'd had a hand in making it worse at times. He filled up a glass with ice water and  
grabbed a beat up carton of cigarettes off of the counter.

"Wish I could smoke some goddamn weed," Mickey sighed sitting up when Ian entered the room.  
He mumbled his thanks, took a sip of water and waited for Ian to light up their cigarettes.

"Could you if you got the Early Termination?" Ian asked placing the filter in Mickey's mouth.  
He took a deep inhale and leaned back against the headboard, "Probably not the smartest fucking  
idea," he licked his lips and grinned at Ian, "but we could go to Colorado or some shit and smoke  
it legally."

"With all our extra cash?"

Mickey shrugged, "Luca mentioned that they're looking at me for management. If I got it and  
early term, we're fucking going somewhere... even if we gotta eat cans of beans for weeks after."

"We wouldn't even have to pay the gas bill because your gassy ass would provide," Ian reasoned  
with a smirk.

"Fuck off. You don't got any right to complain about something that brings you so much pleasure,  
dickhead," He joked with a laugh.

"You complain about my mouth all the time but that gives you pleasure," Ian retorted. The grin on  
his face showed just how proud he was of his response.

"Fucking dumb," Mickey chided but leaned over to to give him a kiss anyway, "Love your  
mouth. Such a pretty mouth."

"That your way of telling me I should suck your dick?" Ian asked, eyebrows raised.

"Nah, you drained the hose a few hours ago, ain't gonna work. You just got a pretty ass mouth."  
Ian smiled and chased another kiss, "Got an idea."

"Oh yeah?"

"We should go to Patsy's eat like fucking pigs then come back and nap. Wake up, fuck and take  
another nap before we meet Sam and Tim at the club," Ian suggested.

"It's the middle of the night," Mickey groused.

"You going back to sleep? Ian asked already knowing the answer.

"Fuck, you're annoying as hell, Gallagher," Mickey said stubbing out his cigarette in the ashtray  
and sighing, "You know that?"

"I mean, you tell me a lot, so..." Ian shrugged, "Think about how boring your life would be  
without me."

"Stop," Mickey warned, climbing onto Ian's lap, "Don't wanna think about that shit." He kissed  
him softly and Ian loops his arms around his waist.

"Hate your nightmares, but I fucking love getting my cuddly Mickey," Ian said as Mickey kissed  
his neck.

"Always fucking cuddly, bitch."

"And such a sweet talker, too," Ian teased.

"As sweet as chocolate chip pancakes," Mickey agreed, "We goin' or what?"

Ian smiled the broad, bright smile that only Mickey and chocolate chip pancakes could put on his  
face, "Let's go."

Chapter Sixteen: How to Keep Your Marriage Hot by Milkhailo A. Milkovich

"Fuck," Mickey murmured looking down at the text message Svetlana had sent him as he and Ian  
rode the El to Boystown.

"What's up?" Ian asked receiving the phone that was being shoved into his hand.

-Yev is very upset about your conversation yesterday. We need to talk-

Ian sighed and handed it back, "You did the best you could." He reached up so he could massage  
the back of of Mickey's neck, "What're you gonna write back?"

"Tomorrow morning," Mickey answered as he typed and then slid his phone back into the pocket  
of his jeans.

"Want me to come?" Ian offered, though both of them knew it was a shitty idea.

Mickey shook his head and stared out the window, wondering when his past would stop haunting  
his present. Ian gave him a kiss every so often which he reciprocated, then went back to zoning  
out. After they disembarked, they walked silently to the Fairy Tail.

"Sent a text to Tim and told him to have your drink ready," Ian informed his husband as a bouncer  
that he didn't recognized waved them through.

The club looked the same as it always had with men dancing on platforms in sparkly booty shorts  
and brightly colored lights washing the room in a feeling of fantasy. Though Mickey couldn't have  
been any happier that Ian wasn't dancing for the masses anymore, he had to admit that he missed  
seeing him up there on the platform, moving his beautiful body and giving him the sexiest 'fuck  
me' eyes from across the room. They were stopped a few times by former coworkers of Ian's as  
they tried to make their way through the crowded room to Tim's bar. Every guy that greeted them  
gushed over the their matrimony and gave them shit for not having their bachelor party at the club.  
Ian exchanged pleasantries with them while Mickey's mouth watered for his drink that he knew  
was only a few feet away. He needed to get drunk.

When they finally reached the familiar mahogany bar, Mickey barely said 'hey' and Tim was  
sliding him a Jack and Orange.

"Where's Sam?" Ian asked sitting down on the stool next to Mickey's.

"He's finishing up with that dinner at the museum and then he'll be over," Tim answered. He  
glanced at Mickey who was practical chugging the drink and mouthed, 'he ok?'

Ian shrugged noncommittally and rubbed Mickey's lower back soothingly.

"Made it more Jack than Orange, just he way you like it," Tim said as Mickey drained the glass  
and let out a deep, rumbling belch.

"Good. Keep 'em coming," Mickey urged, giving his friend a grin, glad was quick with the refill.

"Hey stranger," A fifty-something-year old blond man greeted, leaning his elbows on the bar and  
shooting Tim a dazzling smile.

"Hey! How you doing, man?" Tim exclaimed, shaking the man's hand enthusiastically, "Robert, I  
want you to meet my friends Ian and Mickey."

Ian smiled and shook his hand, while Mickey nodded his 'hello.'

"Robert and his husband Josh just opened a fucking amazing gym up on Lakeshore," Tim  
explained, "Top secret but Sam's putting in his notice at FIG tonight. Got a job at CUT Chicago."

"No shit," Ian said, surprised, "What's he gonna be doing?"

"He'll start at the front desk, but we're gonna pay for him and a few other newbies that have great  
potential to get their personal training certificate," Robert responded taking a sip of the wine Tim  
had poured for him.

"Yeah, what do they gotta do for you in return?" Mickey questioned, skeptically raising his  
eyebrows. Ian laid his hand on his husband's thigh to signal that he should shut the fuck up. Tim  
just laughed and excused himself, needing to take care of other patrons.

"Show up on time, be pleasant to the members, pretty typical stuff," Robert replied, seemingly  
nonplussed by Mickey's accusatory tone.

"You still looking for people?" Ian asked, drawing narrowed eyes from Mickey.

"You interested?" Mickey inquired, taken aback by the revelation.

Ian shrugged, "I mean, don't see myself bussing for life."

"We're still hiring," Robert informed him, reaching back to pull out his wallet and hand Ian a  
business card, "I trust that Tim has good taste in friends. Can you swing by tomorrow? Do an  
informal interview?"

"Yeah, sure. That'd be great. I'm off until 4:30pm so I should be able to make it work."

"I think you'd be a great candidate for the trainer program, too. Looks like you're not a stranger to  
the gym," Robert complimented, earning him a dirty look for Mickey who had made his way  
through his second drink already.

"I love to work out," Ian said emphatically. I mostly run and lift free weights but I know how to  
use the machines, too. Just haven't had a gym membership in a while."

"Well, if you come to CUT you and your family will have full run of the facilities," He said  
sipping his wine, "You know, you look really familiar to me."

Before his unwanted notoriety, Ian would've thought a guy that said that was hitting on him, but  
after his face was plastered all over the papers for months, he thought differently. "Used to work  
here," He said lamely.

Robert shook his head to indicate that wasn't it.

Mickey tapped on the rim of his empty glass, his annoyance evident.

"Man, this is going to kill me," Robert groused, looking at Ian's face with and pursing his lips.

"He was engaged to that fuckface Goodwyn," Mickey snapped, "All over the fucking papers."  
Ian intertwined his fingers with Mickey, trying to settle him. He knew he was already on edge and  
the conversation wasn't helping anything.

"Yes! That's it," Robert clapped, glad to put a finger on it, "and you're the Candyland kiss." Ian's  
eyes went wide, knowing that being demoted to 'Candyland kiss' wasn't going to sit well with  
Mickey.

"I'm his fucking husband," Mickey corrected with a sniff. He turned his head to call to Tim,

"Come the fuck on, Moe, you're pouring slow." Tim rolled his eyes and emptied a good amount  
of Jack into Mickey's glass, which he promptly threw back.

"Oh man, I didn't mean to..." Robert began apologetically.

"No, no. It's fine," Ian said, waving it off in the air, "It was all pretty messy, but everything's good  
now, settled and on track. I hope none of this will affect my chances for the job."

"Shit. Of course not. Feel bad that you had to go through that. Couldn't have been easy," the older  
man said sympathetically.

They continued to talk and Mickey continued to drink, over the conversation and the club in  
general. After a significant amount of tongue biting he cut in, "So is this some type of queer gym?  
A bunch of old homos coming in to sweat over the hot staff?"

"Fuck," Ian muttered under his breath, but Robert let out a companionable laugh.

"Well, it's owned by a couple of old homos, but we market more towards families than specific  
sexual orientations. We have an awesome daycare inside the gym. Do you guys have kids?"

"Um, Mickey has a son, but we don't have any together, no," Ian responded. If it would've been  
years ago, when Yevgeny was first born, his answer would've been different. He felt a pang of  
sadness in his heart for what could've been, "Not sure if you're hiring for the daycare, but I got a  
bunch of experience. Have three younger siblings and I've been around babies for most of my  
life."

"Oh yeah?" Robert asked pleasantly surprised, "We're definitely short handed."

"Would I still be able to participate in the training certificate program?"

"Absolutely," Robert nodded.

"Hey, hey, hey," Sam said coming up behind Mickey and giving him an over the shoulder  
squeeze and a kiss on his cheek.

"Fuck off, asshole," Mickey chided without much malice, watching as he hugged Ian and then  
shook Robert's hand.

"Hey baby," Tim greeted leaning over the bar to kiss his boyfriend, "How'd it go?"

"Luca was super cool about it," Sam stated sitting down on the stool next to Robert, "You tell  
Mick and Ian?"

Tim nodded, guilty. Sam shrugged as if it didn't matter.

"Happy for you," Ian said with a grin, "Hoping to maybe make the same move."

"You're kidding!" Sam exclaimed, "That'd be lit."

"Definitely lit," Robert agreed with a laugh, "Gotta work on my cool kid lingo."

They went on to talk about children a bit more, with Robert showing off pictures of he and Josh's  
three kids and Ian gushing over them like they were the most precious humans he'd ever seen. By  
hour two, Mickey was fucking wasted and really fucking over it.

He looped his arm around Ian's narrow waist and pulled him in close so he could whisper in his  
ear, "Wanna dance, Gallagher?" words hot and slurred.

A huge smile bloomed on Ian's mouth as he nodded his head quickly. It was so rare for Mickey to  
dance with him that he was intent on taking advantage of the opportunity. He excused them from  
the conversation and rushed his husband to the dance floor.

Mickey pushed his fingers through Ian's belt loops and leaned up to catch his husband's lips. He  
didn't so much dance as much as sway slightly, while hungrily making out with the redhead.

"Really wanted my attention," Ian teased. Mickey bit his lower lip and pulled it out a bit before  
shoving his tongue back into his mouth. Ian groaned as the brunet began to grind his hard cock  
against his leg, "You got it."

"Let's fuck," Mickey suggested, teeth digging into his own lip, while his eyes burned into Ian's.

"Need this cock bad, huh?" Ian asked as Mickey grapes his erection and started to stroke him over  
his jeans.

"Wanna bounce on it," Mickey rasped, causing Ian to grab him hard by the ass and yank him in  
closer, dipping down to slot their lips together again.

"C'mon." Ian pulled back breathless from the kiss and practically dragged Mickey to the  
bathroom, incredibly frustrated to find that every stall was occupied, "Let's get a cab," he said,  
knowing that riding home on the El would be torture.

"Need it now," Mickey demanded as they exited the club and walked through the parking lot.

"Alley?" Ian asked ready to head in the other direction.

"Right here," His husband insisted, ducking behind a stretch Escalade limousine so they were  
standing in an empty parking spot. Mickey pushed him against the limo and began to suck and  
bite at his neck.

"Mick...hey stop..," Ian protested between moans, "Mick, we're in a fucking parking lot," he cried  
as Mickey unbuckled his pants and tore them down as he fell to his knees on the warm asphalt.

"Yeah, what's your point?" He asked as he used his tongue to lave his husband's cock, "We used  
to fuck at the Kash and Grab, in a dug out, bleachers... you lose your balls?" He reached around  
so he could cradle Ian's heavy balls in his hand, "Nah, they're still there."

"Someone could pull into the spot," Ian said, feeling his resolve melt away as Mickey's mouth  
worked him, "walk by..."

"It'll be fun," Mickey mocked, looking up at him with raised eyebrows and very deliberately  
sticking his tongue out to lick his slit, "What's wrong with fun, Gallagher?

"Goddamn," Ian breathed, shaking his head and knowing full well he was gone, "Stand up, turn  
around."

"Over there," Mickey stood up and gestured towards a parking curb, "Go sit down."

"You're wasted. You're not riding me in the middle of a parking lot," Ian objected, even though he  
was already walking over to the curb.

"The fuck I'm not," Mickey disagreed, "Not like people even drive to the club. Too busy getting  
drunk. Nobodies around," he stated, "Anyway, gotta keep it hot, Gallagher. Ain't gonna become  
some boring ass married couple." He pulled a lube packet out of his wallet and tore it open with  
his teeth.

"Holy shit," Ian exhaled, licking his lips.

"You're acting like you're a fucking virgin," Mickey chided, pulling his pants off and straddling  
the redhead's lap, "Get it the fuck together."

"Fuck," Ian groaned as Mickey kissed him fervently. His head was spinning and the only alcohol  
he'd had was the Jack Daniel's he could taste on Mickey's lips. Drunk Mickey was a freak and he  
couldn't get over how hot he looked arching his back and prepping himself while he kissed Ian  
sloppily.

Their lips were raw and sore by the time Mickey was ready. He stood up, dick rock hard and  
standing proudly.

"Pull 'em down," He prompted Ian, who eagerly did as he told, so far past disapproving that he  
was panting with excitement. Mickey reached back to line Ian's cock up with his opening,  
lowering himself down slowly while gazing at Ian, eyes blown.

"Fuck, oh fuck," Ian panted repeatedly as his own ass chaffed against the curb with Mickey's  
building rhythm. His body shuddered and twitched as Mickey kept his promise and bounced up  
and down on his cock, strong thigh muscles supporting his hot body.

"Gotta keep my man happy," Mickey purred, words slightly slurred from drink, "See the way all  
those fags look at you in there. Need to remind you nobody can ride you like your husband."

"Show me," Ian croaked, voice wavering from the momentum, "Fucking show me, baby."

"Like that," Mickey whispered into the skin of Ian's neck. He was percolating his legs rapidly,  
pulling Ian apart with each movement.

"Fuck. Oh my.. holy shit. Fuck," He moaned and groaned in an almost comical succession.  
Between the thrill of being out in public and Mickey riding him within and inch of his life, Ian  
knew he wasn't going to last, "Get it. C'mon." He spanked Mickey's full quaking ass cheek and  
the brunet raised himself higher and dropped himself hard until Ian cried, "I'm gonna fucking  
cum."

At the sound of those magic words Mickey pulled himself off and dropped to his knees deep  
throating his dick, causing Ian to spasm and shake through his orgasm. As soon as Mickey was  
sure he got it all, he jumped to his feet and stepped up so they were on either side of Ian's hip on  
the curb. He started to fuck his husband's waiting mouth, taking only a few thrusts to pour his cum  
down his throat.

Ian was breathless underneath of him and Mickey climbed down patting him on the cheek  
companionably, "See you pussy... everything's fine."

"I'm not fine," Ian disagreed folding himself over, desperately trying to pull air into his legs.

"Better get up," Mickey urged pulling up his pants and tossing Ian his jeans, "Someone could  
come out here and find your naked ass sitting on the curb."

"Fucking asshole," Ian grinned looking up at his husband, who flicked up his eyebrows  
mischievously in response. The redhead gave him the finger and shook his head.

"Yeah you just fucked my asshole. Very good. Now get the fuck up," Mickey said lighting up his  
cigarette and watching as Ian rose to his feet, wobbling legs making him look much more like a  
baby deer learning to walk than a grown man, "Gotta get back in there to kiss some more ass."

"Fuck off," Ian laughed, almost falling as he stepped into his jeans.

Mickey just looked at him proudly thinking that he knew how to keep shit hot.

Chapter Seventeen: Him First

Mickey paced nervously, further wearing out the living room carpet of the shitty apartment. The  
irrational part of him wished he'd told Ian to wait to head to Robert's gym and stick around for the  
conversation, but he knew it was better he wasn't there.  
He swung open the door at the first knock to let Svetlana and Yevgeny in.

"This place is not nice," Svetlana stated, looking around with a completely unimpressed look on  
her face.

"Neither are you," Yevgeny shushed, tapping his mom on the elbow. Mickey wasn't sure how  
they'd managed to have such a sensitive and nice kid. Genetics were pretty fucked up.

"This is what we do," Svetlana said simply, sitting down on the edge of the couch as Mickey  
tossed a Gatorade to Yevgeny and looked at her with raised eyebrows. She waved him off,  
indicating she wasn't interested. He grabbed a bottle for himself and sat down on the living room  
chair. They all looked at one another in an uncomfortable silence until Svetlana cleared her throat,

"So we wanted to wait until you were a little older to tell you this," she began.

"Or not fucking tell you at all," Mickey groused, shooting a dirty look at Svetlana. He was pretty  
sure this conversation would be chapter one in 'How to Fuck Up Your Kid For Life."

"Americans are too fragile," She shuddered in response, "It is disgusting. Yevgeny will not be so  
delicate."

"You think I'm soft?" Mickey challenged, licking his lips.

Svetlana shrugged, "This is a question for your husband." A small smirk pulled up the corner of  
her mouth.

Mickey clicked his tongue and let out an exasperated sigh before turning to Yevgeny who was  
looking at him expectantly, "Remember how I told you my dad wasn't a nice guy... well, he was a  
real piece of shit. He walked in on me and Ian," he paused trying to think of how to phrase it,  
"making out and shit," he sniffed uncomfortably, "he started beating the shit out of Ian and then  
me." His heart raced wildly and he wiped his sweaty palms on his basketball shorts. Nine years  
ago he never imagined having to talk about that day again, let alone to his son.

Yevgeny's blue eyes were wide as saucers, "Just because you guys are gay?" The astonishment  
dripped off of his voice.

"Mmmhmm," Mickey confirmed, gnawing on his bottom lip and looking to Svetlana to continued  
on. There was no way he was explaining her former profession to their kid.

"Your dad's father asked that I have sex with him because he thought that this would make him  
like women," She said, pursing her lips and glancing at Mickey who nodded his head that he liked  
the direction she was taking, "Your dad did not want to, but he did this because his father  
demanded that he do it."

"But it didn't work..." Yevgeny stated slowly.

Mickey shook his head, "Got married to Ian, so no... didn't work."

"A few weeks after we had sex I found out I was pregnant. Your daddy got married to me  
because he wanted to do the right thing for you even though he did not love me."

"Because you loved Ian," Yevgeny clarified.

"Pretty much," He confirmed, flicking his nostril with his knuckle, "and Ian, uh, he really fucking  
loved you."

"Ian did?" Yevgeny asked, raising his eyebrows skeptically.

"Yeah, I got this," he stood up and grabbed the picture he'd placed on the kitchen counter earlier  
that day. It was bent and tattered from years of being folded into prison uniforms. He straightened  
it out and kneeled next to where his son was sitting on the couch.

"He looks the same," Yevgeny said, looking down at the picture of Ian holding a little blond baby  
up in the air and gazing into his eyes lovingly.

"You don't though, big guy. What'd you do with all that blond hair?" He asked, reaching up to  
tousle Yevgeny's dark locks.

Yevgeny grinned and his cheeks flushed pink, "So Ian took care of me when I was little?"

"He did," Svetlana replied, swallowing down the rest of the story that she didn't want to have to  
get into. Enough was enough.

"He loved you first. It was hard for me at the time because of all the shit that went down, but he  
taught me how to love you," He looked directly into his son's eyes, wanting him to understand the  
gravity of his statement, "and I do, Yevgeny. Alright? I love you."

Instantaneously, Yevgeny threw his arms around Mickey's neck and hugged him tightly.

"Just not easy for me, kid," He explaining, hugging him back, "Until Ian, never talked about any  
of this. Don't know how all this shit works."

Yevgeny pulled back, "Didn't your mom ever tell you she loved you?"

"Might've. Don't remember."

Svetlana cringed and shook her head, not understanding how a man could grow to be loving  
without having had any love.

"I love you," Yevgeny informed him, causing Mickey to swallow down the rising lump in his  
throat, "Can I keep this?" He asked holding up the ragged picture in his hand.  
Mickey, taken aback by the request, nodded his head in agreement, watching as Yevgeny looked  
at it one more time and shoved it into his back pocket for safe keeping.

The younger Milkovich turned to Svetlana, "Can I hang out here for a while and play Doom?"

"This is up to your father," Svetlana replied standing up and straightening out her skirt.

"Gotta work in a few hours but I'll walk him back," Mickey said, rising up from his knees so he  
could sit next to Yevgeny on the couch, "Right now I'm about to spank the kid's ass."

"Not a chance," Yevgeny contended picking up a controller and tossing the other to Mickey,

"Ian's got a much better chance of beating me."

"Ah, this how it's gonna be now?" Mickey asked with a laugh.

Svetlana smiled as the shit talking continued and let herself out of the apartment.  
By the time Ian got home an hour later the living room table was full of junk food and Yevgeny  
and Mickey were deeply entranced in their game.

"Who's winning?" He asked, kicking off his flip flops and leaving them by the front door.

"Who d'you think?" Mickey teased, sticking his tongue out to the side as his eyes stayed locked  
on the screen.

"Definitely Yev," Ian replied, drawing a laugh out of Yevgeny and a middle finger from his  
husband. He walked behind the couch so he could lay a kiss on Mickey's cheek, before throwing  
himself down on the chair.

"It's close," Yevgeny informed him, glancing up from the game so he could look at Ian. The  
redhead just grinned at him as the kid held his gaze for a few beats longer than necessary. It was a  
noticeable departure from his typical aversion to eye contact.

"How'd it go with..." Mickey began, blanking in the guy's name.

"Robert. It went well. Met with him and his husband. They're really nice guys," Ian replied, "and  
they offered me the job."

"No shit," Mickey paused the game and looked at Ian, "You gonna take it?"

"I mean, we can talk about it."

"What would you be doing?" Yevgeny asked taking the redhead by surprise.

"I'd be watching kids at a gym on the North Side while their parents work out. It'd be pretty cool  
cause the guys that run the place would pay for me to get my personal training certificate, so  
eventually I'd help people get in shape or bulk up."

"Would you be able to help me get cut?" Yevgeny inquired causing Ian to smile.

"The fuck you need to get cut for?" Mickey asked with a smirk.

"When I beat the shit outta Spencer," He replied matter-of-factly.

"Don't gotta have muscles to throw a punch like I taught you to."

Yevgeny shrugged, "Can't hurt though."

"I'll help you out," Ian assured him with a wink, causing Yevgeny to nod and look down,  
seemingly embarrassed that he asked, but pleased with the result.

"Sounds like you're into it, Gallagher. You should put in your two weeks tonight," Mickey  
suggested, "the pay similar?"

"I'd be making $3 more an hour and they'd give me health insurance, a 401k, access to the gym  
and pay for the training cert- which would have me making $40,000 to start," He paused as a  
huge smile lit up his face, "plus free smoothies."

"No shit. You should've led with the fucking smoothies, man. You gotta take it," Mickey said  
grinning back at him. He wanted to tackle his husband to the ground with his excitement, but he  
held back out of respect for his kid who would probably find that kinda thing uncomfortable.  
They looked at each other with a glint in their eyes knowing that this job was a big deal for them  
and would have the potential, along with Mickey's possible promotion, to make money worries a  
thing of the past.

"Are the smoothies really good or something?" Yevgeny asked, entirely clueless to the depth of  
the moment that was unfolding in front of him.

"I had the banana berry one today and it was pretty good," Ian confirmed.

"You should probably take it then," The boy said simply, "Maybe dad'll bring me up so we can  
try one sometime."

"I think we can work that out," Mickey replied standing up from the couch, "but right now I gotta  
get you home. We have to work tonight." He pulled a groaning Yevgeny up and ushered him  
towards the door. Before leaving he moved in close to Ian and rested his hand on his cheek.

"Went ok?" Ian asked quietly, as Mickey laid a soft kiss on his lips.

"Mmmhmm," He hummed, "I'll tell you about it when I get back," he kissed him again and  
looked directly into his emerald green eyes, "Fucking happy for you, man."

"I'm happy for us," Ian returned, tickling Mickey's side softly. He glanced towards Yevgeny who  
was looking at them with a strange look of awe on his face and turned back to Mickey, "See you  
soon."

He watched as father and son left the shitty apartment, the kid's hand curiously resting on his back  
pocket as they walked.


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter Eighteen: CUT

Ian gave Luca two week notice, but his boss only kept him on for one, giving him the opportunity  
to start at CUT Chicago earlier than expected.  
"Ian!" Robert exclaimed as Ian entered the gym. He was standing behind the sleek, lucite front  
desk flipping through a stack of applications.

"Hey Robert," Ian greeted with a smile, shaking his hand, "Excited to start."

"We're excited to have you. Sage is going to show you the ropes today. Do you remember how to  
get to the daycare or do you need me to take you back there?"

"Nah, I remember. Thanks," Ian said, beginning to walk away. The facility was impressive. From  
its soaring ceilings boasting a grid of metal beam work and skylights to its state of the art  
equipment, everything was top-notch. He couldn't wait for Mickey to check it out.

"Hey- before I forget," Robert called, stopping him in his tracks, "the trainer certification program  
starts on Thursday. You'll have class in the meeting room twice a week for a month and the rest  
will be online. You can do the coursework at home on your laptop! How convenient is that?"

"Very," Ian agreed, except it wasn't. They didn't have a computer or wifi and he wasn't looking  
forward to bringing up the potential need for either to his husband, "Thank you."  
Robert gave him a companionable wave and Ian headed towards the back of the gym, passed the  
spin and yoga rooms to the oversized Dutch door of the daycare. He pulled it open and heard a  
sweet voice call to him, "Make sure to kick your shoes off."

He smiled at the petite red haired girl with skin as light as his and a brush of freckles across her  
nose. Like him she was wearing a light blue CUT Chicago polo shirt, but unlike Ian's, the girl's  
was tucked neatly into her perfectly pressed, dark wash jeans. She was holding a toddler who was  
playing with the soft curls of her hair, while another grabbed onto her leg possessively.

"You must be Ian! I'm Sage," She chirped, "I'd shake your hand, but..."

"Looks like you're pretty occupied," Ian filled in squaring down so he could greet the small boy  
hugging Sage's leg, "Hi there."

The boy looked at him skeptically for a moment and buried his face behind Sage's knee.

"This is Gio," Sage introduced, "Gio, say 'hi' to Ian, he'll be here with us from now on," She  
looked to Ian, "He'll warm up. This is Coco. Will you give Ian a wave, love?"

The little girl waved quickly before dropping her head onto Sage's shoulder, causing Ian to laugh  
lightly, "I grew up with a bunch of younger siblings," He informed her, "I know how it goes.  
They'll be shy today and climbing on me like monkeys tomorrow."

"You got it," Sage agreed, "So you're my shift mate. We'll be together Tuesday through Sunday  
from 10-6. It's the best shift. During the week we'll get like seven kids at any one time, max. But  
on weekends..." her eyes went wide for affect, "complete mayhem."

"Sounds like fun," Ian smirked, looking around the room, trying to imagine the perfectly orderly  
space in complete disarray.

"C'mon guys," She urged the kids, "Let's walk Ian through all of the important stuff."  
They spent the next several hours going over the ins and outs of the job; touching on everything  
from sign in sheets to milk temperatures. A rotation of 50 kids over the course of the 8 hour shift  
had left the room a mess, so when the clock hit 6:00pm, Ian and Sage found themselves on hands  
and knees picking up a never ending spread of toys.

"Not gonna lie," Ian began with a wry laugh, "This isn't easy."

"Right?" Sage nodded in agreement, "People think it's a cake walk, but I think we have the most  
demanding job at CUT."

"Toddlers are tiny tyrants," Ian joked. The kids he'd met during his shift were far from as quiet or  
compliant as Liam had been.

"Seriously," Sage laughed, "Especially Serena."

"Holy shit she's mean," Ian whispered, wide-eyed. The three year old had orchestrated a reign of  
terror throughout the hour she'd spent there.

"You should meet her mom," She informed him, rolling her eyes, "There's a reason the saying 'the  
apple doesn't fall far from the tree' is such a classic."

"Can't wait," Ian chuckled, "Kids can be so brutal. My husband's son is nine and he's dealing with  
some bullying on his baseball team. Sucks."

"Husband, huh?" Sage said in a song-songy tone, "What's his name? How long have you been  
together? What's he do? Details!"

"Uh... his name's Mickey. We've been together off and on for like 15 years, but married for a little  
under a month. He works for a catering company. He's awesome... what else d'you wanna  
know?"

"Have a picture?" She asked, grinning.

Ian fished his phone out of his pocket and illuminated the lock screen so Sage could see the  
picture of them sitting on the picnic table at their wedding reception.

She looked at the screen and then at Ian with a glint in her eye, "Like the bad boys, Ian?" She  
teased.

"Good to me," Ian replied, licking his lips an raising his eyebrows.

"Too sweet," She said, passing the phone back, "My dads are gay."

"Oh yeah? Are you Robert and Josh's..." he began, but she shook her head.

"My dads are close friends with them. They all went to Northwestern together," Sage explained,

"You said Mickey has a son, did he adopt him or...?"

"Um, no. Yevgeny's his biological son," Ian answered noticing that Sage was doing the mental  
math and realizing that the timeline between Ian and Mickey's relationship and the birth of his  
biological son overlapped. She didn't pry, "Did your dads adopt you?"

"Yes. When I was one. I'm a lucky girl. They're the absolute best," Sage gushed.

Ian smiled, "You're close with them?"

"Absolutely. We're best friends."

"That's nice, really. My dad's a nightmare. Mick's was worse," Ian said, mostly to himself.

"Well, the fact that you had a crappy dad and you're so good with kids says a lot," Sage  
complimented, "You're a natural." It seemed like she was going to say something else, but she  
tossed a toy in the plastic bin instead and looked the door at two identical teenage girls walking in,  
"You ladies are late."

"Sorry Sage," One of them said with a frown, "Reese took forever doing her hair."

"It's literally in a ponytail," Sage stated, completely unimpressed. She stood up and brushed off the  
front of her jeans, "Reese, Ava, this is Ian, my new shift mate."

"Nice to meet you," Reese said reaching out to shake Ian's hand as he rose from the floor. She  
peeked to his side at his other hand and gave him a half smile when she noticed the ring.

"At least she checks, right?" Ava sighed, grasping Ian's hand next, "Sorry we were late."

Ian shrugged and Sage humphed rolling her eyes. She signaled to wait a minute while she grabbed  
her bag. "They're always late," She groused as they exited to the main gym floor, "So  
unprofessional."

"Ian," Sam called as they approached the front of the gym. He came out from behind he front desk  
and gave his friend a hug, "How was your first day?"

"Awesome. Sage has been great. Have you met?" Ian asked.  
They shook hands and exchanged names.

"You have a visitor waiting for you," Sam grinned, tilting his head towards the wall of windows  
that surround the gym entrance. Ian could see Mickey leaning against a mailbox smoking a  
cigarette. Goddamn his husband was hot.

"Is that..." Sage began, eyebrows raised.

"Mickey," Ian nodded and turned back to Sam, "Did he come in and say 'hi'? Look around the  
place?"

Sam shook his head, "Nope."

Ian sighed and rolled his eyes, "Dick."

"He gave me a half wave, nod kinda thing," Sam offered.

"Not the friendliest?" Sage questioned with a light laugh.

"He's a teddy bear when you get to know him," Sam replied, earning a toothy smile from Ian.

"You gonna tell him that?" Ian taunted, glancing back out to Mickey who was looking back at  
him with an annoyed look. Ian held up the sign that he'd be another minute and Mickey threw up  
the sign for 'fuck you.'

"Should probably go," Ian relented, "See you tomorrow?"

"Yeah, man. I'll be here. We start classes on Thursday," Sam said, pounding Ian's fist, "Pretty  
cool, right?"

Ian nodded, "Can't wait." He and Sage exited the gym.

"The fuck's with you bein' late, bitch?" Mickey asked, licking his lips and looping his arm around  
his husband's waist as he approached, "Hey," he cooed in a much softer tone as Ian leaned down  
to give him a kiss.

"Hey. Sorry. The girls that relieved us ran late, "Didn't know you were gonna be here."

"Taking you to dinner," Mickey stated simply, earning a grin from Ian, "Going to that dumb  
happy hour place that does those stupid ass little hamburgers that you gotta eat a fuck ton of to get  
full."

"Yeah?" Ian asked with a smile, looking down at his husband's lips before kissing him again.

"Mmm," He hummed, pulling his husband in closer. He looked at Sage who was standing there  
awkwardly.

"Mick, this is Sage. She's my shift mate, Sage, Mickey," Ian introduced.

Sage reached out her hand and Mickey reluctantly shook it, "Heard a lot about you. Nice to meet  
you."

"You too," Mickey replied, "Ready to go?"

Ian nodded, "Thanks for everything," He said to Sage, "Ill see you tomorrow."

"Looking forward to it," Sage chirped back before turning on her heals and heading in the  
opposite direction.

"Your boss got some kinda fucking firecrotch fetish? Only hires gingers?" Mickey asked as they  
walked towards the restaurant. He took a long drag from his cigarette and looked at Ian with his  
eyebrows raised skeptically.

"Sam's black," Ian reminded him, grabbing his cigarette and putting it between his own lips.  
"Think they'll make him dye it red?"

Ian rolled his eyes and laughed, giving Mickey a gentle pat on the ass, "I gotta talk to you about  
something."

Mickey licked his lips and looked up at Ian expectantly, "This is about to cost us money ain't it?"

Ian shrugged sheepishly, "I mean, it doesn't have to. I could go the library. I guess I need to do  
some of the trainer coursework online."

"And they didn't think to mention it before now?" Mickey huffed, annoyed, "When d'you need  
shit by?"

The course starts on Thursday."

"Really Ian? What the fuck?" Mickey cried, his eyebrows screwed down in aggravation, "Rich  
fucks think everyone's rich."

"I could just do it at the library," Ian said breezily, "Won't be a big deal." Mickey sighed and Ian  
could read the look on his face, "It's no problem for me to just go there."

Mickey sniffed, flicked his nose and took another hit from his cigarette, "Wish we could afford it."

"I know," Ian said softly, "but we'll be able to soon. This kinda stuff won't be a big deal."

Mickey just stared ahead and rubbed his forehead. He'd have to figure it out.

Chapter Nineteen: Never Change

"So tell me about the new job," Fiona prompted, as she sliced up a head of iceberg lettuce and  
threw it in the colander.

"It's good. The gym is so fucking nice, Fi. You'd love it," Ian began, cutting the tomatoes, "I  
could get you a trial pass so you could check it out..."

"Yeah?" Fiona asked, raising her eyebrows.

Ian nodded, "And I started the course to become a personal trainer two weeks ago."

"How's that going?"

"Really well. The anatomy stuff is pretty easy for me cause of, you know," He paused for moment  
as if he'd brought something up he wished he hadn't, "EMTing. So that's good."

"So good," Fiona agreed, resting her hand gently on his shoulder before going back to preparing  
the fix-in plate, "It's keeping you pretty busy, huh? Haven't seen you in a while."

"Yeah," He confirmed, "I wrangle a bunch of hyper kids for most of the day and then either have  
class at the gym or have to go to the library to do my coursework. It's a lot."

"Too much?" His sister asked in a worried tone that earned her narrowed eyes in return.

"Not too much," He said simply, "Just miss Mick. We hardly see each other. He got promoted to  
Assistant Manager and has been picking up extra shifts. It shouldn't be too bad once I'm done. I  
only got another month to go, but until then... it sucks."

"It will be worth it," Fiona assured him, "You're going to be such an amazing trainer."

"You think?"

"I know," She replied, looping her arms around his waist and resting her head on his broad chest,

"I'm proud of you," she stated as he hugged her back.

"Ian!" Debbie exclaimed, entering the kitchen, "I didn't know you were coming."

"Had to show for Liam's birthday," Ian said, embracing his younger sister, "How're you doing,  
Debs?"

"Good. Nothing new or exciting. Frannie's impossible, but what's new."

"She's 10 going on 25, just like Debs was," Fiona teased, ruffling Debbie's hair and drawing a  
scoff from her sister.

"I never had this kinda attitude," She objected causing Fiona and Ian to exchange knowing looks  
before dissolving into laughter, "Whatever," Debbie rolled her eyes, "Where's Mickey? Work?"

"Nah, he's coming. He had to run some errands and pick up Yev, but they'll be here," Ian replied.

"Yevgeny's coming?" Fiona asked, surprised.

"We have enough food," Ian said defensively, narrowing his eyes at Fiona.

"Of course," His older sister reassured him easily, "I just didn't realize... are things good with you  
guys?

"Getting there," Ian replied, with a nod, "He's such a great kid."

"He looks so much like Mickey," Debbie said with a smile, "blows my mind."

Ian grinned proudly, so impressed with how far Mickey had come in his relationship with  
Yevgeny. The kid looked at Mickey like the sun rose and set at his command and Mickey  
regarded him the same way. He loved watching Mickey settle into fatherhood. Though his  
husband still wasn't completely confident that he was a good dad, Ian was glad he was at least  
acknowledging that Yevgeny thought he was and in the end, that was a stronger testimony than  
his own insecurities.

"You guys thinking about adding to the fam bam?"

"Fam bam?" Fiona laughed, grabbing hamburgers and hotdogs out of the refrigerator.

"You're so judgmental, Fiona!" Debbie snapped with a sigh.

"I thought it was funny!" Fiona defended.

Their subsequent bickering caused Ian an immense amount of relief that he no longer lived with  
them. He loved the quiet, happy life he shared with Mickey in their shitty apartment. As great as it  
was to be in their tiny bubble, he didn't mind the idea of giving a part of it up. They'd been starting  
to discuss the need for a larger place since Yevgeny had expressed an interest in staying over.  
There was no space for him in their small one bedroom and the last thing they wanted to do was  
make him feel unwelcome, especially with how complicated it had been to build and rebuild their  
relationships.

"Anyway," Debbie scoffed, turning to Ian, "Do you and Mick want any more kids?"

Fiona busied herself setting out paper plates, utensils and napkins, but it was exceedingly obvious  
that she was anxiously awaiting Ian's answer.

"I mean, I always thought I'd have a baby. A few kids. I don't know. I'm more worried about  
getting closer with Yevgeny and Mick made it clear that he wasn't interested in having another  
kid," Ian shrugged pouring chips into a bowl, "Pretty sure it's not gonna happen."

"Also said he didn't want to get married right," Lip pointed out as he and Grace walked into the  
kitchen, "You got a way of getting your way," He said patting Ian on the back, "always have."

"Think you're talking about yourself," Ian shot back with a grin, "Hey," he said hugging Grace,  
"How are you?"

"Still putting up with your brother's shit, but surviving," She teased, pushing her chin length hair  
behind her ear.

"Such a sweetheart," Lip joked, kissing his girlfriend on the forehead.

"Wouldn't love me if I was," She reminded him as she hugged Debbie and then Fiona.

"Gracie's got a point," Fiona said with a click of her to tongue, "There's the birthday boy!" She  
exclaimed as Liam came through the door and kicked off his sneakers, "How was work?"

"Alright," He replied, making his rounds to greet his siblings.

"14, huh? Makes me feel old as fuck," Lip said as he hugged his brother.

"You kinda are," Liam deadpanned moving onto Grace and then Ian.

"That makes me pretty old, too," Ian joked.

"You're more well preserved," Liam assured him with a toothy grin, "I'm gonna go shower, Fi.  
Start eating without me."

"I'll handle the meat," Lip stated gathering the burger and hotdog packages in his hands to take  
them out to the grill, "Unless you want to Ian... it is your forte."

"Always so clever," Ian rolled his eyes with a laugh.

There was a knock at the backdoor and Fiona pulled it open to let Mickey and Yevgeny in. She  
exchanged a terse 'hey' with Mickey before fawning over Yevgeny.

"You don't have to knock," Ian reminded him, pressing a sweet peck on his lips.

"Ain't my house," Mickey replied, squeezing his husband's hand and tilting up for another kiss.

"Hey Yevvy," Ian grinned tussling Yevgeny's dark locks and loving the way the boy grinned up  
at him.

They spent the next few hours bullshitting with the Gallaghers and eating a bunch of BBQ before  
finding themselves sitting on the front stairs sipping beer as the sky turned dark.

"Only having one," Ian promised his husband who was looking at him with raised eyebrows as he  
popped the tab on a beer can.

Mickey just licked his lips and nodded in response.

"So Ian told us you got a promotion! That's awesome," Grace congratulated, taking a sip of her  
beer and leaning back against Lip's chest.

"Yeah," Mickey confirmed, "Like it there...so it's cool."

"He also said you guys were thinking of renting a bigger place," She added, earning her a poke in  
the ribs from her boyfriend, "What?!"

"Don't sell them," He stated.

"Just thinking about it," Mickey replied, shooting Ian and his big mouth a dirty look. His husband  
just shrugged sheepishly in return and then rested his hand on Mickey's knee.

"You shouldn't rent. You can buy something and have a lower mortgage than most pay for rent,  
plus you'd have equity," Grace said matter-of-factly.

"Really?" Mickey asked skeptically, taking a swig of his beer.

Grace nodded and Ian added, "She was telling me about it the other day. The only difference  
would be we'd be in charge of taxes on it and all the repairs."

"Our numb nut landlord don't fix shit for us anyway," Mickey scoffed.

"Ian said once he completes his program he's gonna be making about $38,000 and you make  
$44,000 now, right?" Grace pressed.

Lip laughed as Mickey spat out an annoyed, "The fuck Gallagher, don't go around talking about  
our fucking business."

"It's Grace," Ian replied, simply, "She needed to know to go over the math." He averted his eyes  
from the blues that were burning into him and lit a cigarette.

"Anyway," Grace cleared her throat, undeterred by Mickey's outburst, "You guys could afford a  
pretty nice place on your salary alone, Mickey."

"We don't need nice," Mickey stated, causing Ian to roll his eyes.

"A decent place," She said with a smirk. "I have a listing on South Dante in South Shore that  
would be perfect for you guys. 3 bedrooms, 2 baths. $126,900 which would make your payment  
$490."

"We pay way more for our apartment," Ian chimed in.

Mickey looked at him suspiciously and Ian draped his arms over his husband's shoulders and  
kissed his temple, "So you liked it, Firecrotch?"

"Hmmm?" Ian hummed trying appear innocent.

"You guys go to see it..." He continued, "or did you see pictures?"

"Just pictures," Ian admitted, while Grace laughed quietly at them, "It looks really nice."

He took his phone out of his pocket, scrolled a bit and handed it over to Mickey, who looked at  
the slideshow with an unreadable expression, "No way we can afford this," Mickey tisked, "Don't  
got $127,000 laying around and the bank ain't gonna give me a loan with a felony on my record.  
You tell her about that, too."

"Wasn't really a secret, right?" Grace replied gently, "I think Lip told me on our first date."  
Mickey just gave his smug as fuck brother-in-law the finger at that information.

"I have a friend in lending. He told me there are government programs that grant a certain number  
of loans to felons that weren't locked up for something related to money," Grace informed him,

"I'm not pushing. It's just a really great opportunity for you guys to actually save some money and  
gain equity while your at it. Something to think about."

"Tell him about the commission," Lip directed, taking a drag of his cigarette.

"Oh yeah! I wouldn't take commission from you guys, only from my seller. So if you come in  
with a full price offer, you can knock $3,800 off the total," Grace said, grinning at Ian and  
Mickey, "We could go take a peek at tomorrow if you want."

"I have work and class," Ian replied, "But you should go look at it, Mick. See what you think."  
Mickey gnawed on the inside of his cheek and turned to Grace, "You think we could really afford  
this shit?"

"Mortgage is cheaper than your rent and you just got a promotion, so I'd say so. I'll set you up to  
chat with Lloyd. He'll walk you through all the financials, tell you if it'd work."

Mickey looked into his husband's hopeful eyes, "Feels weird, right? I mean, couldn't afford  
fucking Wifi and now we're talking about buying a house." He was planning to surprise Ian with  
the new laptop and wifi package he'd bought him with the money he earned on his extra shifts  
when they got home that night, but now the gesture felt small in comparison.

"You got a raise and it's cheaper than our mortgage," Ian said with a shrug, "It's about priorities I  
guess. We need more space for Yevgeny and renting a two bedroom in our building would be like  
$250 more than this house's mortgage would be."

Mickey nodded and rested his hand on his priority's thigh, "I'll go check it out."

Ian kissed him softly on the lips and Grace assured him, "No pressure. Just see if you like it."

"Hey," Fiona greeted, as she exited the house and sat in a lawn chair with her beer.

"What're Yev and Liam doing?" Ian asked, rubbing Mickey's tense shoulders.

"They're playing the Sims. Making them curse, fuck and all that good stuff," Fiona replied.

"Ah, the innocence of youth," Lip mused, tilting his head back and blowing a plume of smoke  
into the air above him.

"I don't think I swore for the first time until I was like 18," Grace said, "Definitely didn't know  
what sex was at their age."

"You didn't know what sex was by the time you were 14?" Fiona questioned, giving her a  
disbelieving look, "C'mon."

"I knew what it was, but not what it looked like," Grace defended.

"I was fucking Mick when I was 14," Ian stated, laughing when Mickey twisted around to grab  
his side.

"You were also fucking a pedophile," Lip added, earning the 'chin' from his brother and a 'shut  
the fuck up' from his brother-in-law.

"Some things never change," Fiona declared, chugging down her beer.

"Thank fuck for that, Lip agreed, clinking his beer can against Ian's who gave him a half grin and  
shook his head. He looked at Mickey who was gesturing with the tilt of his head that he wanted to  
leave. Thank fuck for that.

Chapter Twenty: Messy Morning

“Ian,” Mickey whispered, nudging his husband’s bare shoulder with his nose as he hovered over  
him, “Wake up.”

The redhead lifted his eyebrows before he raised his eyelids, a smile playing on his lips, “Horny?”  
He asked, grasping the back of Mickey’s head and pulling him down for a kiss. He started to  
reactively roll his hips up so that his morning wood could knock against Mickey’s.

“Not why I’m waking you,” Mickey smirked.

“Hmmm,” Ian hummed with a quizzical look on his face. He put his arms behind his head on the  
pillow and looked at Mickey, waiting, “What’s up then?”

Mickey twisted behind him so he could present the laptop to his husband, “Got this for you.”  
Ian’s jaw dropped and his eyes grew wide as he sat up to take the laptop into his hands, “Holy  
shit, Mick.”

“Ain’t that big of a deal, Gallagher. Just figured it’d make shit easier,” Mickey sniffed, rubbing his  
thumb against the side of his nose.

Ian put the computer down on the nightstand and placed his palms on Mickey’s cheeks, eyes  
locked, “It’s a big fucking deal,” he stated, his waterline beginning to collect moisture “a really  
fucking big deal. This why you’ve been picking up more shifts?"

Mickey nodded and gnawed on his bottom lip, “Don’t cry, alright. Can’t take your fucking  
waterworks.”

“You’re amazing, you know that?” Ian said pressing his lips against Mickey’s and murmuring,  
“So fucking good to me. Thank you.”

“Got it mostly so I could see your stupid face around here more,” Mickey teased with a playful  
grin, laughing when Ian looped his arm around his waist and threw him down on the bed.

“You love my face.” The redhead smiled as he peppered Mickey’s chest with kisses, paying  
special attention to the tattoo bearing his name, “and I love you.”

“Got you wifi, too,” Mickey added, tangling his fingers red tresses.

Ian crawled back up his husband’s body so that he could catch his lips again, “I’m so fucking  
lucky.” He began his downward descent, licking and kissing down his sternum then stomach,  
“Gonna make you feel as good as you make me feel.”

“Oh yeah?” Mickey asked arching his eyebrows and biting his lips as he rolled his hard-on against  
Ian’s ab muscles, “How’re you gonna do that?”

“Got my ways,” The redhead assured him, looking up at him with a smirk. He didn’t waste any  
time taking Mickey’s hard cock into his mouth. He wet the warm skin with his tongue, making  
sure not to leave an inch dry. He could feel his own spit smearing onto his cheeks and leaking  
down his chin as he bobbed his mouth up and down on his husband’s dick.

“That’s right… suck it sloppy,” Mickey sighed, pulling up to his elbows so he could get a better  
view of Ian, whose eyes were closed peacefully and cheeks were hollowed out while he worked  
Mickey well, “Love when you can’t get enough of my cock.”

"You taste so good," Ian moaned, as he lapped at Mickey’s slit collecting the precum he was  
leaking, only to deep throat him and then come up to the tip for more. When he felt Mickey’s cock  
begin to tighten and strain he pulled off of it, licking his way down to his balls. He took the orbs  
into his mouth gently and massaged them with his tongue.

Mickey moaned gently loving the attention Ian was paying to his most sensitive spots, protesting  
when he pulled his mouth away, “C’mon… keep going. Fucking love it.”

“Gonna love this more,” Ian promised, grabbing behind Mickey’s knees so he could push his legs  
up and give his mouth total access to his full ass. He wasted no time lapping and swirling at his  
rim, causing the tight muscles to twitch and loosen with pleasure, “So hot,” He crooned, spitting  
into his hole and watching as it contracted. He leaned back down to fuck into his ass with his  
tongue. Mickey’s legs shook and his body trembled as Ian narrowed his tongue and pushed in  
deeper.

“Fuck me,” Mickey directed, beginning to squirm under Ian’s pressure. The redhead ignored the  
request, instead deciding to lay a hard spank onto his ass as he twisted and shoved his tongue into  
him more fervently, “Mmm” he groaned as Ian continued the pattern, leaving his skin red and his  
hole open. Mickey’s cock was leaking onto his own stomach, leaving sticky trails of pleasure. He  
grinned and watched through hooded lids as Ian removed his mouth, dropped his legs, and made  
his way up so he could clean his lover, not wanting to waste a drop, “Love that cum, huh, baby?”

“Know I do,” Ian confirmed, licking his lips, not bothering to clean off his messy chin before he  
leaned over Mickey’s face and slotted their mouths together, "I love you. I really fucking love  
you." Ian's voice was heavy with emotion, his pupils blown with passion as their cocks brushed  
against each other, desperate to find some friction.

Just as Mickey was about to grasp onto Ian’s hips and rut at him hard, his husband pulled away,  
climbing off the bed, “The fuck? Get back over here,” He demanded. He watched suspiciously as  
Ian tossed a few things out of the closet and smiled at the realization of what he was searching for,  
"Check it out, Ian Gallagher putting his big boy pants on."

"Not wearing pants," Ian joked, gesturing down to his raging erection that was standing proudly  
from his groin, "and it's Milkovich, asshole." He smiled at the glint in his husband's blue eyes and  
picked up their toy box, "Here she is."

"It's very obviously a dude, fuckface. It's got like 15 dicks," Mickey corrected, raising his  
eyebrows as Ian pulled out a long strand of wooden ben wa balls and haphazardly threw the lid  
back on the rest of the box, "Mmm we're gonna fucking play, huh?" He rubbed his palms together  
and licked his lip.

"Mmmhmm," Ian confirmed, pouncing onto the bed so that he could nip at that licked lip  
exuberantly.

"Giddy motherfucker," The brunet laughed, spanking Ian's ass while he deepened the kiss, "I'm  
putting them up here, right?" He teased, sliding his finger down to the rim of the redhead's  
asshole.

"Fuck you," Ian chuckled, rolling off of Mickey and directing him to, "turn over." He obliged,  
tossing Ian the lube that was siting on the bedside table before settling his hands under his chin so  
he could watch as Ian slicked up two fingers. Ian took a moment to plant soft kisses over the scars  
on his cheek before pulling it away from the crack and tracing his wet fingers around his opening,  
"Gonna work you a little more," he decided, dipping his middle finger into Mickey and making  
large circles against his walls.

"Not too much," Mickey cautioned, "already loosened me up some with your tongue, wanna keep  
it tight."

"You got the most perfect ass, Mick," He complimented, wiping his wet fingers on one of  
Mickey's fleshy mounds and picking up the lube. He squirted a good amount onto his asshole and  
another glob onto the ball, "Ready?"

"Mmmhmm," Mickey hummed laying his head down so he could focus on the pleasure.

"Frog your legs out," Ian directed, grinning at the view when he did, "So fucking beautiful."

"Alright. Let's fucking go," Mickey urged, losing his patience, "Fill me up." His breath hitched  
when he felt the sphere breach his muscles, "Yeah, push it in... just like that." He moaned as Ian's  
finger followed through and sent the ball deep inside of him.

"Your body, Mick... Goddamn," Ian praised, lubing up the next bead. He brought it to Mickey's  
ass, licking his lips as he watched his husband's hole contract from the pressure. He tapped it in a  
little further and gasped as Mickey's hole swallowed it completely. The brunet let out the hottest  
fucking whine that had Ian immediately bringing his hand down to his hard cock, "How'd I get so  
fucking lucky?"

"More," Mickey mewled, pushing up to his hands and knees, back arching like a cat.

"Oh shit," Ian moaned at the sight, the clicking sound of his hand working his dick filling the  
room.

"Jacking off?" Mickey asked, gazing over his shoulder with a smirk. His eyes were blown and his  
tongue was incessantly licking his lips, "Turns you on how I fucking take 'em in."

"So fucking much," He confirmed, the pace of his pants speeding up when his husband sustained  
eye contact with him and laid a fat lick up his own palm, dropping his hand down so he could start  
to tug at his cock, "Fuuck."

"Gimme more.. please," He moaned, circling his hips so the balls would knock move inside of  
him as he continued to please himself, "One right after another."

"Is it gonna be too much?" Ian questioned lubing up two more balls, "We only got to three last  
time.

"Did I slur my fucking words, Gallagher?" Mickey asked with a huff that quickly gave way to a  
moan as he began to rock himself back and forth, "Mmm c'mon."

Ian did as he was told, sliding in the next ball, which caused Mickey let out a pleasured cry,  
dropping his shoulders to the bed unable to hold himself up any longer on shaky arms. His ass  
was still presented in the air, awaiting his request to be fulfilled. Ian had to push against slight  
resistance to get the last ball in but by the time he did, Mickey was positively falling apart, body  
quivering as a cacophony of curses and lecherous noises filled the room. He dropped his hips to  
the bed, hand still wrapped around his dick. Ian began to massage his full ass cheeks, moving the  
balls around in the process, completely destroying his husband, "Flip over," he prompted, "Want  
you to cum on my face when I pull them out."

"Fucking freak," Mickey managed to taunt though his voice was wavering, breath almost  
completely gone. He turned, body trembling at the exertion. He hooked one leg around Ian's waist  
and rubbed the sweat from his forehead, completely overwhelmed by the sight of his husband's  
swollen, leaking cock in his line of vision, "Goddamn sexy motherfucker... uh... make me fucking  
cum baby. Pull them the fuck out."

Ian wrapped one hand around the base of Mickey's cock for leverage and used the other to gently  
tug at the silk string. He watched as Mickey's jerking hands grabbed into his own hair, desperate  
for something to ground him. He pulled a bit harder and hummed a satisfied, "Yeah," as the first  
ball popped out. Mickey's hips spasmed as he howled from the delicious feeling, "Next one?"  
Mickey was biting his lip so hard that a small trail of blood was leaking down his chin, "You're  
bleeding."

The crimson faced brunet garnered enough energy to give Ian the finger and then a slight wave to  
indicate he was ready for more. The loss of the next ball had Mickey keening, his leg shaking so  
violently that Ian had to hold it tight as not to drop it.

"Quick," He croaked, wiping away the tears leaking from his eyes.

Ian did as he was told, pulling the next two out in succession. His husband's mouth contorted in  
ways he'd never seen as inhuman sounds tumbled out of it. The moment the last ball came out,  
Mickey let go; ribbons of cum shot from him painting Ian's face.

Ian licked as much of his face that he could get and beat his own cock until he came on Mickey's  
still twitching dick. He fell on top of Mickey as they both struggled to get air into their lungs,

"That's not even half," Ian landed.

"Huh?" Mickey asked, blue eyes glassy, lips raw.

"Not even half of how good you make me feel," Ian informed him, intertwining his fingers with  
Mickey and exhaling, "You're the fucking best."

Mickey didn't say anything in reply, instead he turned onto his side so he could lay a blood stained  
kiss on Ian's tattoo.. savoring the perfectly messy morning.

Chapter Twenty-One: Make This Happen

“Looks like you brought the big boss,” Grace said with a smile as Mickey and Yevgeny  
approached the house on Dante Street.

“The boss, huh?” Yev grinned up at his father.

“Don’t get too ahead of yourself,” Mickey teased, tussling up the boy’s black hair, “Told him not  
to get his hopes up since this ain’t a sure thing,” he said turning to Grace.  
She nodded, understanding that Mickey was warning her not to oversell the place, “Ready to  
check it out?”

Both Milkoviches bobbed their heads, though the younger was significantly more enthusiastic.

Grace unlatched the padlock that was hanging from the gate of the chain link fence and slid it  
open, the metal screeched and dragged against the pavement of the walkway, “Nobody can sneak  
in,” She joked, dropping the grin from her face when she saw Mickey was unamused. She cleared  
her throat and gestured towards the dark brick house with a covered entryway that was flanked  
with stacked bay windows, trimmed in white “Anyway. The house is 1600 square feet, with three  
bedrooms, two baths and a finished basement that doesn’t factor into the square footage, so it’s  
actually quite a bit bigger.” She walked up the front steps to the small porch and unlocked the  
white storm door, “Go ahead,” She said ushering Yevgeny in and gesturing for Mickey to follow,  
“You’ll notice there’s solid oak flooring in much of the house and tile in the wet rooms like the  
kitchen and bathrooms. They painted it this nice, crisp, cream recently which gives you a blank  
slate for art….” She recalibrated for her company, “or posters.”

“It’s really light in here,” Yevgeny said, moving across the room so he could look out the large  
front window, “feels happy.”

“It’s clean,” Mickey stated, taken aback by what good shape the house was in. He was used to  
ripped up carpets, holes in walls and general disrepair. Though the house wasn’t new, it looked  
like the people who had lived there took care of it, gave a shit.

“It is,” Grace agreed, “I’m sure some underlying issues will come up on the inspection, always do,  
but it’s a super nice place,” She couldn’t read the look on Mickey’s face, but thought he may be  
overwhelmed. She decided to continue the tour and not press for opinions, “So this is the living  
room and that’s the dining room,” she said, pointing across the small entryway to the adjacent  
room, “and if we keep heading this way, we hit the kitchen.”

They walked into the kitchen and Mickey began to open and close some of the oak cabinets.

“Looks like it’s big enough for Ian to make that grilled cheese he promised to make me,” Yev said  
looking up at his dad expectantly, “think he’s still gonna make it for me?”

Mickey grinned at him, “Yeah, he’d probably be pretty happy to know that you want him to.”

Grace tried to hide the beaming smile that was spreading across her lips and turned her head to  
lead them up the steps, “All three bedrooms are upstairs. The master is above of the living room so  
it has those same lovely bay windows, which gives it an airy feel, plus it’s an en suite, so it has a  
private bathroom.

“It’s huge,” Mickey murmured in disbelief that he could spend his nights in a room so spacious  
and inviting with Ian. It seemed like a dream.

“You can definitely get a King size bed in here, maybe even a California King,” Grace said,  
opening the door to the bathroom. Mickey didn’t feel the need to tell her that there was no way  
they’d be getting a bigger bed; for him, the smaller the bed the better. If he could sleep on top of  
Ian, he would and sometimes he did. They looked over the en suite and the other bathroom, before  
Grace opened the door to one of the other bedrooms, “This is the smallest room, so I’m assuming  
Yevgeny would want the other,” Grace said with a wink. Yevgeny nodded his head  
enthusiastically, “This one could be used for an office, a nursery, whatever,” She said  
nonchalantly, booking it out of the room before Mickey could reply.

“Or how about a fucking torture chamber, Grace? Think it’d be good for that?” He called after  
her, causing Yevgeny to laugh.

“And this would be Yevgeny’s room,” Grace said, seemingly unaffected by Mickey’s outburst,  
“All the rooms have ceiling fans which will help cut HVAC cost in the summer.”

“This so much bigger than my room now,” Yev blurted, wide eyed, “I could fit a tv and a  
Playstation in here easy, plus all my books and baseball stuff,” he rambled on while walking the  
perimeter, “Could probably get a desk in here to do my homework so that I wouldn’t have to do it  
at the kitchen table like I do at mom’s. It’s so loud and I get stuck on the same math problem for  
way longer than I need to because I can’t concentrate.”

“Just cause we’re looking at a house, don’t mean we won the fucking lottery, Yevvy,” Mickey  
reminded him lightly with an eyebrow raise.

Yevgeny nodded bashfully, a pink hue crawling over his cheeks, “It’s really cool, that’s all.”

“It’s alright,” Mickey said, draping his arm around his shoulder, realizing that bringing the kid  
probably wasn’t the greatest idea, “Just a lot to work out, y’know? Don’t want you to get your  
hopes up.”

They headed down to the basement and then out the door that led to the backyard. Patchy grass  
spread across it and a large elm tree stood proudly in the middle. The space wasn’t huge but it was  
gated and bigger than anything he and Ian had while they were growing up.

“Think that’s a good climbin’ tree, Yev?” Mickey asked, quite aware that it wasn’t, but needing a  
moment alone with Grace.

“Want me to go see?” Yevgeny asked gleefully.

Mickey nodded and laughed as Yev ran over to the tree and tried to scale it Spider-man style,

“You gotta be fucking honest with me, alright? What are the chances that we can actually do this?  
I can’t fuck around with the kid’s emotions or with the princess I got at home.”

“What about yours?” Grace questioned, biting on the cap of her pen, “Seems you’re only worried  
about their opinions… what’s yours?”

“You know damn well there ain’t shit not to like,” Mickey said dragging his thumb across his  
bottom lip and shaking his head, “What are the fucking chances?”

“Seriously, Mickey, they’re really good. I told you, my friend is a lender. He’s worked magic with  
a guy Lip knows that did time. You have the income. I don’t think it’s going to be an issue at all.  
Are you available tomorrow morning?”

Mickey nodded, “I’m on nights this week.”

“Well why don’t we go meet with Ross together? See what he can do? Get the ball rolling…”  
Grace suggested, looking at Mickey’s profile as he smiled at Yevgeny, who was shrugging at him  
unfazed by the arboreal beat down.

He turned to Grace and told her in a low voice to “find a way to make this happen.”

“I will,” She assured Mickey, patting him between his shoulder blades.

“Ready to go, man? C’mon,” Mickey called to Yev, who jogged over to him immediately.

They were quiet walking to the El, until Yevgeny asked, “Did you like it?”

“I did,” Mickey replied, lighting his cigarette. He lifted his eyebrows quizzically, already knowing  
the answer to the question he was about to pose, “How ‘bout you?”

“A lot,” His answered, “but…” he paused for a moment, kicking a rock that he came across on the  
sidewalk, “I’m not gonna be mad or anything if you don’t buy it. Don’t want you to think I would  
be or anything?”

Mickey took a deep inhale and blew the smoke out his nose, “That’s nice of you,” he said softly,  
unsure of what else to say in response.

“Can I ask you a question?” He asked.

“Just did,” Mickey teased with a smirk. Yevgeny grinned. The last time his son had begun a  
conversation that way it hadn’t ended particularly well, so as anxious as Mickey felt, he pushed  
himself to reply with, “go ahead.”

“I heard Grace say that the other room could be a nursery,” Yevgeny began, dropping his eyes  
down so he could look at his shoes, “are you and Ian thinking of having a baby?”

“Don’t got the right equipment for that,” Mickey stated simply, biting the inside of his cheek. Fuck  
Grace and her big fucking mouth.

“I mean,” He cleared his throat, “You could adopt or something, right? People do that. My friend  
Jack is adopted. He’s Chinese or something and his parents are whiter than you.”

“Ahh, my kid’s got pale jokes now, huh?” Mickey laughed, nudging Yevgeny with his elbow,

“Problem is you’re pasty as fuck, too.”

“I know,” Yevgeny chuckled, “Still thought it was kinda funny.”

“Kinda,” Mickey agreed with a grin, “I’ll give you that.”

Yevgeny looked up at him with a goofy grin and then pressed on, “Would you ever think about  
that? Adopting?”

He was hoping the subject would’ve been dropped at his last response, but Yevgeny evidently  
had other ideas, “Was a pretty shitty father to you, don’t wanna do that to another kid. Feel bad  
enough about it as is,” Mickey said, wiping his eye uncomfortably.

“You’re a good dad,” Yevgeny told him, “Everyone makes mistakes. Just matters what you do  
after you make them.”

“Your mom tell you that?” Mickey questioned, practically hearing the thick accent in the words.

“Thought it was pretty good,” He replied with a shrug.

“It is,” Mickey spit on the over his elbow and took another drag of his cigarette, “Thanks.”

“For what?”

“For what you just said,” Mickey said too shy to repeat it.

“About being a good dad?”

Mickey nodded.

“Oh.”

They walked in silence again, this time not as comfortable as it had been before, both feeling that  
the other wanted to say something, but was holding back.

“You’re a good son,” Mickey uttered, not able to look him in the face right away, but when he did  
he saw that his cheeks were flushed and he had a grin on his lips.

“I kinda want a sister or a brother. If you and Ian had a kid, they’d be my sister or brother, right?”

“Mmmhmm,” Mickey hummed, unable to believe that this conversation was continuing, “Half,  
but that don’t matter. Why the fuck would you want a sibling? You got Amy and Gemma, aren’t  
they enough?”

“They leave me out of a lot of things,” He said quietly, “They got each other, I don’t have anyone  
like that.”

“You got me, your mom, your uncles and aunts, Ian if you want him,” Mickey stated, wishing he  
was smoking something a little stronger than a fucking cigarette.

“It’s not the same. You’ll all die before me, then who am I gonna have?” Yev asked sadly.

“Holy shit, kid. That’s fucking dark,” Mickey balked, rubbing his forehead. If he didn’t have  
work later that night he would be pounding back drinks as soon as he got home, “If we had a  
baby, you wouldn’t be close to the same age. The baby wouldn’t be able to do shit but… well,  
shit for a while. You ever been around a baby? They pretty much just eat, shit and cry.”

“That what I did?” Yevgeny giggled.

“Yup. You were real fucking gross. Still kinda are,” He teased, flicking his son behind the ear and  
picking up his pace with a laugh so that Yev would chase after him.

“Kinda? That’s not so bad,” Yevgeny called running after him.

Mickey tossed his cigarette and pumped his arms faster while Yevgeny howled with laughter after  
him.

Conversation over.

Chapter Twenty-Two: Close the Door

As soon as Mickey finished meeting with his probation officer, he walked the familiar route  
deeper into the building and then through the courtyard to the police station. It felt like lifetimes  
ago that he'd last visited Jake there and yet it had been less than year. He found it unfathomable to  
think that he'd lived any of his days without Ian, let alone so many.  
Mickey waved to Patricia at the front desk and she smiled, buzzing him through the secure door  
that led to to the cops offices. He made his way to Jake's, rapping on the door gently with tattooed  
knuckles. Peeking through the glass slat, he grinned at Jake who gestured for him to come in.

"Hey there," Jake greeted standing up from his desk, eyes growing wide with surprise when  
Mickey wrapped him in a tight hug.

"Thanks," He said quietly, holding Jake for a lingering moment before pulling back so he could  
look earnestly in his eyes and tap his fingers against his cheek gently, "You didn't have to do that.  
Ginn said your letter will make a big fucking difference to the judge. So... thanks."  
Jake nodded, took Mickey's hand, and clicked his tongue when he saw the ring remained on his  
finger.

"That shit ain't goin' anywhere, man," Mickey assured him with a shy grin on his face. He looked  
down at the floor, licked his lips and returned his eyes to Jake.

"Didn't do it for that anyway," Jake said, patting Mickey's shoulder before sitting back down in  
his chair and kicking his feet up onto the desk.

"What'd you do it for?" He asked, leaning against the wall and crossing his arms over his chest. In  
his experience, everyone always wanted something.

"You're a good guy, Mickey," Jake shrugged, "Got dealt a fucking shitty hand in life, made some  
bad choices, but you... you're good down to the core."

Mickey felt his cheeks flush and averted his eyes so he could gaze out the window at the parking  
lot. "Don't spread that shit around, alright?"

Jake laughed lightly and shook his head when he saw Mickey sniff, nudge his nose, and use his  
hand to partially hide the smile that was pulling up his lips.

The room was silent until Jake cleared his throat, "So, I started seeing someone..." he began.  
Mickey raised his eyebrows in interest and waited for him to continue, "he told me he knew you  
and Ian when you were a couple of punkasses fucking around on the South Side."

"Then he's fucking lying cause I was never a punkass," Mickey smirked, "and how the fuck did  
we come up?"

"Talked about past relationships," Jake said easily, "Wanted to know why I have commitment  
issues."

"You don't." The idea that the self-assured, outgoing, tender octopus could have a hard time  
settling down seemed ludicrous to him.

"I didn't," Jake corrected, biting his lower lip, blue eyes looking down, "then my last boyfriend  
left me for his ex," He sighed and gave Mickey a wry grin, "Tony's gotta deal with that shit."

"Tony...?" Mickey began, scrunching down his eyebrows, "he a cop?"

Jake nodded and chuckled at the classic Mickey 'what the fuck' face he was getting in return,  
"Officer Markovich. Said he hauled you in a few times."

"You gotta be fucking kidding me," Mickey exclaimed in complete disbelief.

"You jealous?" Jake asked, raising his eyebrows with a whole lot of cockiness covering his face.

"What? No," Mickey scoffed, rubbing his forehead. The only thing he felt was guilt. Tony  
seemed like a good enough guy back in the day, but he was boring as shit. Ian might've been a lot  
to handle sometimes, but he fucking like it that way, "I'm just tryin' to figure out what it's like to  
fuck a floppy fish, man."

"Really?" Jake huffed, the look on his face was somewhere between aghast and amused, "Want  
me to start in on your husband, Mick?"

"I fucking wouldn't," Mickey warned, lifting his eyebrows and gnawing on his cheek. He  
wouldn't do shit to Jake and his ex knew it, but it didn't mean he was going to act like it was  
alright for him to say anything about Ian.

"How are things with you guys?" Jake asked, his tone more gentle, "He treating you right?"

"You act like I'm some fucking battered bitch," Mickey tisked, shaking his head. Jake just  
shrugged his response, "Shit's really good. We're buying a house. We close in a week."

"Moving up to the North Side? White picket fence? Little dog in a fucking sweater...?" Jake  
teased, leaning back in his chair and tapping a pen against his full lips.

"Nah, we're fucking South Side trash for life, man. You know that," Mickey replied with a smirk,  
"Don't matter what jobs we got, we're gonna live and die on the South Side."

"Think I'm a traitor?" Jake asked, a grin spreading across his face. He missed their banter. No  
matter how hurt he was about how their relationship ended, he'd always enjoy bullshitting with  
Mickey.

"Do you?" Mickey challenged, rubbing his thumb against his bottom lip.

"Don't give a fuck. My car doesn't get broken into, so I'm good," Jake replied with a shrug, "Your  
husband was North Side for a while. Sure he's not gonna start tugging on your pant leg to get  
back there?" He grimaced at the look on Mickey's face, realizing he pushed too far.

"Only reason he pulls on my pant leg is so he can yank 'em down and suck my cock," He stated,  
rolling his tongue under his bottom lip.

Jake threw his hands up in surrender and nodded his head, indicating that he knew it was a sore  
spot, "He doing alright?"

"Don't fucking worry about it," Mickey replied, standing up straight and thinking it was past time  
to get the fuck out of there.

"Listen..." Jake began, pulling himself up from his reclined position, "You know I'm just giving  
you some jabs, Mick. I'm rooting for you guys, ok? If he's doing well, you're doing well and I  
want you to be doing well."

"Why d'you give a shit?" Mickey asked skeptically.

"Cause I fell in love you," Jake answered simply, "and that shit doesn't go away, you should  
know that better than anyone."

Mickey sniffed uncomfortably, hating that he hurt him, but also finding it difficult to comprehend  
how Jake had fallen for him so intensely and so fast. "What does Tony think of that?"

"Thinks I have fucking commitment issues," Jake laughed, "Guess I do."

"Maybe you don't really like him," Mickey offered with a shrug. Jake just sighed and licked his  
lips, "You were asking about Ian. He's doing well. Got one week left of school and then he's  
gonna have his personal trainer license or some shit. Has a job at the gym already."

"Which gym? My workouts are getting a little stale. Maybe I'll be his first client," Jake teased with  
a mischievous gleam in his eyes.

"The fuck you will." Mickey grinned, rolled his eyes and gave him the finger.

"And you? Still at the catering company?"

"Mmmhmm. Got promoted to assistant manager so I'm kinda a big fucking deal," Mickey joked.

"Already know all about your big fucking deal," Jake flirted, waggling his eyebrows. Mickey  
flipped him off again and he continued with sincerity, "I'm happy for you. It sounds like things are  
going really well. You'll have to let me know how the Early Termination shit shakes down, ok?"  
He stood up and crossed the small office so he could hug Mickey for a little tighter and a little  
longer than necessary.

Mickey nodded and slapped his back playfully, "Don't tell Tony hi for me."

"Yeah, yeah," Jake chuckled, "He doesn't wanna hear shit about you anyway. Remembers you as  
a dirty little fucker. Can't understand why I'm still hung up on your ass."

"Fuck, I can't either," Mickey admitted, reaching for the door handle.

"It's a great fucking ass and I know what the hell it can do," Jake replied, his voice was low and  
his eyes hooded with desire. He shook his head in attempt to gain control of himself, "You  
fucking ruined me, man."

Mickey was surprised that Jake felt that way, but he knew the emotion. Ian had ruined him. No  
matter how into a guy he had been, and he had been really into Jake, nobody would ever surpass  
Ian in his heart. He and Jake had only dated for a short time, there was no way that he could have  
it that bad. It couldn't be love, it had to be infatuation, boredom, "I'm telling you. You gotta  
fucking find someone else. Markovich isn't doing it for you."

Jake frowned and wrapped his tattooed fingers around Mickey's elbow, "And what if in the end I  
only want you. What then?" He asked.

"Then you're shit outta luck," Mickey said softly, looking into the sadness in the other man's blue  
eyes. He knew at that moment, it would be the last time he did. It couldn't be this way again. It  
wasn't fair to Jake and it certainly wasn't fair to Ian, "Thanks for the letter."

Jake nodded and loosened his grip, "No problem. Really. If you need anything else..."

Mickey shook his head 'no' and he could see that Jake understood. "It was never you... why it  
didn't work out or shit," He said opening the door, "It was always fucking him. It's always been  
him."

Jake swallowed hard and sighed, "I guess I'll see you around then."

Mickey gave him a weak smile, knowing that he was going to try his damnedest to make sure they  
didn't. When he closed the door on Jake all he could think about was his husband, how much he  
loved him, how much he always had. He pulled his phone out of his pocket and sent a text  
message to Ian.

-Jake sent the letter. Ginn said he thinks it's gonna make a difference. Went to thank him-  
The reply was almost immediate:  
-and?-  
-He's dating fucking Tony Markovich-  
-hahahahahhahahahahahahahhahaha-  
-Fucking crazy-  
-Yeah. What else?-  
-Tell U more when I get home-  
-Soon you'll say that and you'll mean when you get home to our own house-  
-I know. Still can't believe it. Can't fucking wait.-  
-Gonna fuck you in every single room-  
-Don't U got a fucking kid on your hip right now you nasty perv-  
-Having a kid on my hip is never gonna stop me from railing that ass. Believe that.-  
-Get home ASAP. Gonna ride U into the bed-  
-I just covered Gio's ears-  
-Fucking dumbass-  
-Love you-  
-Love u 2 baby. C U soon-

Chapter Twenty-Three: Study Buddy

The good thing about working with kids, other than the fact that they were pretty cute, was that  
they didn't seem to notice how distracted Ian had become over the last several weeks. Though he  
was often stuck in his head reviewing muscle groups and equipment use, they were unconcerned,  
happy to just climb on him like a jungle gym. Thus far, CUT had turned out to be not only  
educational in the training sphere, but also in the disposition of toddlers. As long as they got what  
they wanted, they were happy. So, while he his mind drifted to his studies, he reflexively worked  
to please them.

"Sing it again," Emma demanded, giggling when Ian complied.

"Head, shoulders, knees and toes, knees and toes, head, shoulders, knees and toes, knees and toes,  
eyes and ears and mouth and nose, head, shoulders, knees and toes, knees and toes," Ian sang,  
booping each body part with his finger as he did.

"Again!" She squealed, excitedly clapping her hands.

"It's my turn," Gio pouted, delivering a hard shove to Emma, who whined her disapproval and  
immediately retaliated.

"Hey," Ian warned, "We don't push. What do you say?"

"Sorry," Gio muttered, as if the word pained him.

"Emma..." Ian said, prompting the little girl to mumble her apology, "I can handle you both, ok?"  
He began to sing again, pointing out the parts on each of their bodies, much to their delight.

"Working on the tough stuff, huh?" Sage teased, "If head, shoulders, knees or toes are on your  
final tomorrow, I think you're going to ace it."

Ian rolled his eyes with a laugh, going through three more rounds of the song before distracting  
the kids with Sesame Street.

"The twins better be on time today," Ian said glancing at the primary colored clock hanging on the  
wall, "I gotta get home and study."

"This remind you of your husband?" Sage asked, holding up a stuffed Mickey Mouse.

"Nah, he's not really the mousy type," Ian laughed, tossing toys that were strewn across the floor  
into the toy box.

"He's the intimidating as heck type," Sage stated. The few times she'd met Mickey he was waiting  
for Ian outside, smoking and looking moody.

"He's the sweetest person you'll ever meet," Ian informed her, "Unless you f..." he began, quickly  
remembering he was amongst children, "fudge with him. If you fudge with him you're fudged."

"You had way too much fun with that," Sage laughed.

Ian just grinned in response. He forgot sometimes how different his husband was with him; the  
tenderness he showed that not many others got the privilege of seeing. Fuck he missed him.

Though they slept together every night and woke up wrapped around each other in the morning,  
Ian felt distance between them. Life was getting in the way, with its circumstances and demands.

He found himself daydreaming about going back to the Shady Oak Bed and Breakfast so they  
could lay on the beach during the day and fuck all night.

As glad as he was to have the opportunities he did at CUT, he missed seeing his husband all day  
everyday. He'd heard people say in the past that working with your spouse was a bad idea, but he  
had enjoyed working with Mickey; from the Kash and Grab to FIG, he loved spending that time  
with him. With personal training he had the ability to create his own schedule to some capacity  
and he intended to make it work with Mickey's as best he could.

"Earth to Ian," Sage crooned, "Why don't you head home? Our ratio is fine and the girls should be  
here in the next half hour."

"You sure?" Ian asked skeptically.

"I got you," She confirmed, "But you have to rock it tomorrow."

"I sure hope I will," He stated, walking over to Sage and giving her a big hug and a kiss on her  
hair.

"Oooooooooo," The kids squealed at the display of affection, before breaking into a rendition of  
'Sagey and Ian Sitting in a Tree."

"Alright, alright," Ian laughed, shaking his head, "See you guys in a few days."

"Good luck, Ian," Sage said with a grin, "I know you'll do great."

"Thanks," Ian smiled. He slipped his backpack onto his shoulders and headed to the front of the  
gym.

"Feel ready?" Sam asked, shaking Ian's hand and pulling him in for a hug after he'd approached  
the front desk.

"I don't, man," Ian replied with a sigh. "I'm kinda shitting myself, just a ton to remember. Thought  
it would be easier cause of my EMT days, but it's... not."

"I'm nervous, too," Sam admitted, "but I keep telling myself if some of those roided up meatheads  
passed," he said gesturing over his shoulders at beefy guys grunting exaggeratedly on the weight  
lifting equipment, "we should be fine."

Ian smirked and nodded his agreement, "Fucking miss working out. Haven't run in weeks. By the  
time I'm a trainer I'm gonna be out of shape."

"Oh yeah," Sam said sarcastically, "You look like you've really let yourself go."

"You know what I mean," Ian tisked with a grin, "I'm gonna go hit the books. I'll see you  
tomorrow."

"Bright and early," Sam confirmed, swiping a members key tag and smiling at them before  
wishing her a good workout.

He spent the El ride back to the shitty apartment looking over his anatomy book and quietly  
quizzing himself. When he arrived home he groaned at the stifling heat. They made a point to turn  
off the air during the day to save on electric, but it took a while to cool the apartment down thanks  
to the brutal August sun. He tore off his work polo and yanked down his pants and boxer briefs  
before heading into the bathroom so he could splash cool water on his face. He slid his glasses  
onto his face and grabbed his book before heading into the bedroom so he could lay on their bed  
and study; one last push before going to sleep.

He had been at it for about an hour when he heard the front door open and Mickey's keys drop  
into the bowl on the counter, "You gotta be fucking me," His husband stated when he entered  
their bedroom.

"What?" Ian asked, hardly looking up from his book.

"Why are you naked?" Mickey chided, loosening his tie and taking in the sight in front of him.

"Why are you complaining?" Ian questioned, seemingly unfazed by his husband's aggravation.

"Because you look hot as fuck laying there with your little glasses on and your cock hanging out,"  
He said, licking his lips lecherously as he unbuttoned his shirt and dropped it to the ground, "and  
I'm gonna go over there and try to fuck and you're gonna turn my ass down cause you're trying to  
study or some shit."

"I am studying," He replied simply, "And my glasses aren't little, they're the typical size." He  
directed on his attention back to his book, well aware that Mickey's remained on him.

"What about your cock though, that the typical size?" He asked with a raised eyebrow.

Ian couldn't stop a smirk from forming on his lips, "You tell me."

"You're the anatomy expert," Mickey reminded him, pulling off his pants so he was fully naked  
before crawling onto the bed and then Ian.

"I have to study," Ian protested as Mickey laid soft kisses across his pelvic bone.

"Don't worry about me," He hummed, allowing Ian's pubic hair to tickle his face, "Keep studying.  
Just gonna suck it a little." He dipped down so he could take Ian's cock into his mouth.

"Fuck off," Ian laughed, kneeing his husband gently in his stomach.

"That's what I'm trying to do," Mickey informed him between licks, giving him a naughty smile  
when he felt his dick grow hard in his mouth.

"How am I supposed to concentrate?" Ian groused, biting his lip and urging his mind to focus on  
the book in his hands rather than the husband on his dick.

"Sounds like a you problem, baby, not a me problem," Mickey teased, beginning to bob his mouth  
up and down on the redhead's cock.

"Fuck that feels good," Ian grunted, letting out a heavy sigh and moving one of his hands down so  
he could grip his fingers into Mickey's dark locks, while his other hand held the anatomy book,  
that was now dangling uselessly in the air. It took a few licks to his slit and Ian was tossing the  
book and rolling Mickey over so that he could pin his back to the mattress, "Gonna study on  
you?"

"Oh yeah?" Mickey asked, raising his eyebrows with interest.

"Mmmhmm," Ian confirmed kissing his neck, "Omohyoid" kiss,"Sternohyoid" kiss, "Trapezius"  
kiss. He slid down his lover's body a bit so his lips were on his chest, while Mickey watched with  
a grin on his face, "Pectorallis major" kiss, "Pectorallis minor," kiss, "Nipple."

"That's not a muscle," Mickey moaned as Ian started to lick and suck on it. He pulled off so he  
could give the nub a firm pinch before going back to work.

"External Oblique," He said, tongue dragging down his husband's side, "Rectus Abdominis,"  
kiss. He moved down to his groin, "Pectineus" and then his inner thigh, "Adductor Longus."

"How about Cockanis Longus?" Mickey suggested, gnawing on his lip.  
Ian laughed, "That's not in my book."

"You're book's on the floor," Mickey reminded him, "So you gotta trust me. It's in there... and I  
wanna put it in here," He stated, tapping on Ian's lips that instantly curled up to a smile.

"Alright but you gotta quick," He said, adjusting himself at Mickey's crotch.

"We can be real fucking fast if we fuck each other's faces," He stated mischievously, "plus you  
can work your armis longuses."

"You gotta stop," Ian tsked with a grin as he turned so his cock was hovering over Mickey's  
mouth and Mickey's was in his. He balanced his weight in push up position and took him down  
his throat while rolling his own cock into the hot mouth below it. Ian smiled at the little whines  
Mickey was making as he positively hoovered him down while fucking hard into his face,  
desperate to find much needed release and get the hell back to studying. When Mickey felt the  
back of Ian's throat brushing against the head of his dick and his husband's nose tickling his balls  
he was gone, emptying into the waiting mouth with a mumbling moan. Ian snapped his hips at a  
more rapid pace, his hip knocking against Mickey's chin and groaned as he shot cum deep into his  
husband.

"Holy shit that was good," Mickey hummed, basking in the afterglow.

"It was," Ian agreed, giving Mickey a playful shove, "Now go in the other room so I can  
concentrate."

"I feel so used," Mickey said with mock indignation.

"You're fine. Wait till I use the hell out of you tomorrow night," Ian laughed giving him a smack  
on his ass when he got up to leave the room.

"I'm holding you to that," He stated, pulling on his boxers and grinning at his husband, "Am I  
allowed to come back in here or are you gonna make me sleep on the couch?"

"Shut up. Give me two hours. I love you."

"I'm fucking proud of you," Mickey said earnestly, leaning over to kiss Ian's forehead.

"Be proud of me if I pass," Ian said, reaching down to pick up his book.

"You will but I am either way," He assured him, pecking his lips before making his way out of the  
room, leaving his husband smiling in his wake.

Chapter Twenty-Four: Movin' On Up

Mickey scanned the shitty apartment, trying to figure out how he and Ian had acquired so much  
crap over the last eight months. U-Haul boxes were stacked one on top of the other in the living  
room, while baskets of toiletries and cleaning products lined the kitchen counter. They had the air  
conditioner cranked up, but the old unit couldn’t cool the stifling heat inside the dump. He sighed  
and rubbed his palm across his forehead, aggravated that they were moving on the hottest day  
Chicago had seen over the past two years; just his fucking luck.

“Why do we have so much shit?” He groused, watching as his shirtless, sweaty husband entered  
the room carrying yet another box.

Wordlessly, Ian dropped the box inches away from Mickey’s foot and glared at him.

“You’ve been a fucking bitch today, you know that?” He snapped, prompting Ian to give him the  
finger and head back into the bedroom.

“Did someone call for some movers?” Iggy blurted, knocking on the half open door before  
entering the apartment. Selena trailed behind him looking like she was less than thrilled to be  
roped into helping. Her long, dark hair was pulled into a ponytail and she was sipping on a green  
tea, completely unimpressed by the boxes that lay in front of her gaze, “Damn, you guys got a lot  
of stuff.”

“Tell me about it,” Mickey muttered as Ian came back into the room to release another box from  
his hands, letting it fall to the floor with a bang while shooting daggers at the brunet.

He mumbled a ‘hey’ to Iggy before kissing Selena’s cheek, “You look good.”

“Thanks, just got a blowout. It’s gonna get mad frizzy with all this humidity. It’s hot as balls  
outside,” She stated, holding her drink out so Ian could take a sip of it. He did and grinned at her  
appreciatively.

“Nice as hell for you to come help out,” He said, “I appreciate it.”

“Wait to compliment her until you see if she pulls her weight,” Iggy teased, tugging his wife  
towards him and getting a shove back in response.

“Milkoviches are assholes,” Ian sympathized.

“Hey Firecrotch,” Mickey called to get Ian’s attention. The redhead looked over his shoulder at  
him, “What’s your last name, baby?”

Ian just pursed his lips in response.

“Can’t just use it when it’s fucking convenient,” He informed him, raising his eyebrows and  
giving him a sardonic smile, “Asshole.”

“Ah, everyone is in such a good fucking mood today,” Iggy exclaimed with a clap, “Let’s get this  
show on the road so we can all get home and not have sex tonight.”

Selena nodded her head to indicate that Iggy was spot on about not getting laid but Ian just  
grunted and lifted the beat up living room chair over his head, “Oh we’re definitely hate fucking  
tonight.”

Mickey bit his lip and shook his head, unable to take his eyes off of the beads of sweat dripping  
down his husband’s ab muscles.

“You should be making looooove,” Selena crooned grabbing one of the toiletry baskets off of the  
counter and following Ian out of the apartment, “Celebrate your first night in your new home.”

“You excited, Mick?” Iggy asked once they could no longer hear their spouses’ voices in the  
hallway.

“For the hate fucking?” Mickey questioned, grabbing one side of the couch and gesturing for Iggy  
to grab the other.

“For the new house, man,” Iggy clarified with a smirk, “It’s a big fucking deal, owning your own  
place. You ever think you’d get there?” He looked at his brother who shook his head to indicate  
that he hadn’t.

“It’s pretty crazy,” Mickey admitted, pulling up as Iggy did so they could begin to carry the sofa  
down the hallway, “Never thought shit would go like this for me.”

“You deserve it,” The blond informed him as he elbowed the ‘down’ button on the elevator,

“What’re the chances that we’re gonna get the couch in there?”

“We just gotta flip it up on one side,” Mickey replied as if it was a stupid fucking question. He  
started to second guess himself as he waited for it to arrive, rolling his eyes up as he attempted to  
figure out the angles, “We gotta take it down the stairs.”

“That’s what I was fucking afraid of,” Iggy sighed, continuing to walk backwards towards the  
stairwell.

With the four of them working as expeditiously as possible, they were able to move all the boxes  
and furniture to the U-Haul in a little over an hour. Ian and Mickey stood in the empty apartment,  
looking around in disbelief that they’d no longer be living there.

“Kinda crazy, isn’t it?” Ian mused, allowing his eyes to travel from the chipped paint to the ripped  
up carpet, thinking he would miss every beat up detail.

Mickey made his way behind his husband so he could press his lips against his sweaty shoulder  
blade and drape his arms around his narrow waist. “Love you,” He whispered into tacky skin.  
The redhead lifted his arm and reached behind him so he could rest his hand on the crook of his  
Mickey’s neck, “Love you more.”

“Truck’s started,” Iggy informed them as they pulled apart, “Ready to roll?”

They nodded.

“Remember the moving truck scam?” Iggy reminisced as Mickey locked up the door of the shitty  
apartment for the last time, “That was a goddamn goldmine.”

“Did pretty fucking good with it,” Mickey agreed, more focused on watching his husband pull on  
his tank top than Iggy’s words. He caught Ian’s eyes and clicked his tongue at the sadness he saw  
in them, “C’mon, it’s gonna be fine,” He said softly, grabbing onto his hand so he could  
intertwine their fingers. He laid a kiss on Ian’s knuckle and gave him a small grin, “It’s a big  
fucking house. We ain’t even gonna know what to do with half of it.”

Ian smiled back and nodded, committed to pushing past his nostalgia for the shitty apartment and  
concentrating on how fucking amazing it was that they were about to move into a house that they  
bought themselves, their house.

When Ian pulled the U-Haul up to the curb in front of the house on Dante Street, Selena shrieked,  
“Wow! Holy shit, guys. This is really nice.”

Iggy agreed, wide eyed at the impressiveness of the residence.

“Wait til you see the inside,” Ian said turning back to smile at Selena.

“Can’t wait!” She exclaimed, climbing over Iggy so she could open the door and jump out onto  
the sidewalk.

“Let’s give ‘em a tour before we start carrying all the shit in,” Ian suggested, removing the keys  
from the ignition and tossing them to Mickey so he could put them in the pockets of his shorts.

Mickey nodded, not wanting to piss on his husband’s excitement by insisting they start moving the  
shit in, and gestured for them to follow him into the house.

“So this is it,” Ian said, waving his arm out, presenting the space to his sister-in-law. As Mickey  
watched him enthusiastically lead Selena and Iggy through the house, telling them what their plans  
were for each of the rooms, he felt a tremendous amount of pride that he was able to provide for  
Ian in a way he feared he wouldn’t be able to just months before. It had been a week since Ian  
took the exam for his physical training certificate and he’d yet to hear back with the results. Until  
they knew if he passed and would get the higher paying job, Mickey was carrying the majority of  
the payments for the house. He couldn’t help but feel good about the fact that he was able to  
handle it easily.

After Ian had completed the rather extensive tour, they started to unload the shit from the truck and  
carried it inside, deciding to leave everything but their bed in the living room to deal with later.

“Where’s your fucking family?” Mickey asked, annoyed that Ian had so many siblings and none  
of them had shown up to speed up the process.

“This is the first time you gave a shit that they didn’t show up,” Ian teased with a grin.  
Mickey just rolled his eyes and gave him the finger.

“Mick, left your phone in the car,” Iggy said, tossing the device to Mickey, “Know you two  
assholes are feeling really fucking flowery about the whole thing, but you’re still on the South  
Side. Gonna get your shit ganked.”

“Must’ve fallen out of my pocket,” He said, glancing down at the screen. He turned to Ian looking  
rattled, “Jason called me three times.”

“Call him the fuck back,” Ian urged, his face lighting up at what the phone calls could mean.  
“Is this a good thing or a bad thing?” Iggy asked, attempting to discern what it all meant but  
perplexed by the difference of emotions the two men seemed to be experiencing.

“Could be a really good thing,” Ian informed him, “He’s waiting to hear back if he was granted  
Early Termination of his probation.” He turned to Mickey, “Call him.”

“Ain’t gonna do it in here,” Mickey stated quietly, afraid that if it was bad news his face would  
fall and indicate that he gave a shit. He began walking outside to the front porch. Ian knew better  
than to join him.

“So what’s it mean if he gets it?” Selena questioned, sitting down on one of the boxes and fanning  
herself with her hand.

“It means he’s finally fucking free,” Ian replied, shaking as head as if he couldn’t believe that  
Mickey would have no ties to the justice system, “No more meeting with his probation officer, no  
more drug tests, we can go wherever we want whenever we want, leave state lines. He wouldn’t  
have anyone constantly looking over his shoulders. Free.”

“Damn,” Iggy sighed with a nod, recognizing the magnitude of importance the phone call held for  
his brother.

Though they should have been continuing to move in more boxes they found themselves waiting  
with bated breath for Mickey to come back into the house. When he did he looked like he had just  
seen a ghost.

“So….?” Ian pressed impatiently. He could usually read Mickey like a book, but he was having  
difficulty discerning the expression on his face.

“I got it,” He uttered, “He told me that I fucking got it.”

Selena clapped wildly and Iggy moved to give his brother a smack on the back and a tight hug,  
while Ian stood astonished.

“You just gonna stand there, Gallagher?” Mickey questioned, narrowing his eyes at his  
uncharacteristically quiet husband.

“Milkovich,” Ian corrected before slamming the brunet back into the wall of their new living room  
and kissing him fervently. Mickey laughed into the kiss as tears trickled from Ian’s eyes into both  
of their mouths.

“Quit crying, Princess,” Mickey chided without malice, wiping Ian’s face as they continued to  
kiss.

“I’m really fucking happy for you.”

“I’m really fucking happy, too.”

Chapter Twenty-Five: A Gift

Ian gazed at his husband sleeping peacefully next to him and smiled at how his face was squished  
against the pillow, the pressure making his puffy lips pout. He got to wake up next to the love of  
his life every morning, in the house they’d bought together, living a life that in his wildest dreams  
he’d never believed they’d actually have.

When he was a child, there wasn’t much that made him believe there was some sort of higher  
power who had mapped out the trajectory of his life. If there was, why would he get stuck with  
the parents he had? Face the challenges he did? With time, his perspective shifted. Though he had  
suffered, Ian had been lucky enough to have a great amount of happiness as well, mostly due to  
the fact that he was loved so deeply by Mickey Milkovich. He wasn’t obtuse. He knew that a love  
like theirs was a rare and beautiful thing.

Meeting Mickey at such a young age had been a blessing. He couldn’t have imagined surviving  
his circumstances without him. From the beginning, things were never perfect between them, but  
they never had to be. Their relationship was rooted in the strength of two stubborn as hell South  
Side boys, who intertwined and grew with each other even when the conditions weren’t ideal.  
They’d both fucked up, pushed the other away, but they’d always come back to what they’d built,  
because it was fucking worth it, they were worth it.

Pushing a stray piece of hair off Mickey’s forehead, he felt an overwhelming surge of emotion.  
Some people lived their whole life never experiencing the level of passion that they did on any  
given day, during any idle moment. With all the mistakes he’d made, Ian had feared that he’d  
never truly deserve Mickey. Whenever he thought that way, he reminded himself that even if he  
believed it, his husband never would. Mickey’s love for him was as unconditional as it was strong.  
He’d taught him how to love that way. Selfishness was, and continued to be in some ways, his  
albatross, but he made him want to be better, need to be better.

A grin turned up Mickey’s lips as Ian climbed on top of him, laying his chest flank against his  
back so he could pepper his bare shoulders with kisses. The redhead dipped his arm between his  
husband’s hip and the mattress, reaching for his cock, “Wanna play?” He crooned as he wrapped  
his hand around his semi.

Mickey hummed contently. “What d’ya wanna do?” He asked sleepily, licking his lips when he  
heard the lube top flip open. He grunted as Ian’s slick finger began to breach his hole.

“Got you a present,” He stated, twisting his middle finger in the brunet’s body. He loved how  
easy it was for Mickey to relax his muscles and take what he gave him.

“Are you gonna say something like ‘this dick’? Because it’s too early for that shit,” Mickey said,  
laughing when Ian spanked his ass with his free hand.

“I really got you something, but you can always have this dick, too. You know that,” He teased,  
adding another finger, “Feel so warm, Mick, got the best fucking ass.” He sighed as Mickey’s  
walls contracted around him, making space.

“Get in it, then,” Mickey prompted, pushing his hips up to indicate he was ready to get fucked.

“Gotta give you your present.” With that, Ian got off of the bed and reached for Mickey’s hand,  
“C’mon.”

“You fucking kidding me?” The tired man groused, “Can’t it wait until you pound me out? I’m  
ready.”

“Good. Come with me.”

Mickey breathed out his aggravation and followed Ian into their bathroom, narrowing his eyes as  
his husband turned on the shower, “You wanna fuck in the shower? You in a rush or something?  
Two birds, one stone?” It wasn’t that they never banged in the shower, they did, often, but it was  
always more functional for them than it was a destination.

Ian shook his head, “I mean, I gotta get to work soon, but that’s not what it’s about.”

“You gonna fill me in or…?”

“Actually, I’m gonna fill you up..." The redhead replied with a nasty smirk, "completely." He  
pulled the shower curtain to the side to reveal a large, blue dildo sticking straight up from the  
basin, "Get you real fucked."

Mickey lifted his eyebrows and bit his lip in anticipation, "Suctions to shit?"

"Mmmhmm," Ian confirmed, turned on by the excitement on his husband's face. He reached  
down to pump Mickey's hard cock with his left hand while he took care of himself with his right.

They began to kiss, softly moaning into each other's mouths as the bathroom filled with steam.  
When they pulled apart, Ian guided his husband into the shower.

The hot water streamed over them, running in rivulets down their bodies as they continued the kiss  
they'd started moments before. Ian gasped when Mickey pushed him back against the cool tiled  
wall, their tongues still tangling wantonly.

"Got the one with Industrial strength suctioning, so you can ride the hell out of it, just like you  
love to," Ian informed him as Mickey began to kiss down his body, spending extra time on the  
tattoo that bore his name.

"So good to me," Mickey hummed squatting as he moved further down Ian's body. He reached  
behind him so he could line the dildo up with his opening and threw his head back with a groan  
when he sunk onto it, taking it in fully.

Ian punched out a sharp exhale and yanked his dick as he watched his husband get his bearings on  
the dildo. The brunet bit his lip as he began to bounce, engaging his thick thighs for leverage.

"Feel good?" He asked, thoroughly enjoying the show. Mickey's legs were frogged out to the  
side, allowing him to take in the amazing view of that perfect ass sheathing the dildo and his dick  
as it jumped with every movement. The water was washing over his shoulders and down his  
broad chest, making the muscles glisten.

"C'mere," He croaked, waving Ian closer to him, "Get that cock in my mouth." He opened his  
mouth wide and let his tongue hang out, an open invitation for his husband to shove it in.  
Ian didn't waste a moment, pushing himself against Mickey's tongue; his breath stuttering as he  
watched the brunet's mouth close around him, perfect lips stretched over his girth. With his hands  
grasping Mickey's wet hair to steady himself, he began to gently roll his hips, loving the way he  
slid against his hot tongue. Every time Mickey pulled up on the dildo, Ian's dick pushed further  
down his throat. When he took it all the way in, so his ass cheeks were hitting the basin, he'd lick  
around the head of his husband's cock. He repeated the pattern while Ian chanted praises, unable  
to take his eyes off of the way Mickey's big, thick cock was slapping against his stomach with his  
movements.

"That's right," Ian groaned, looking down into blue eyes as snapped his hips at a building pace.  
Mickey was rocking his ass on the dildo with the same rhythm, loving the feeling of hot water  
pounding against his back, "You love it. Fucking cockslut."

Mickey moaned his confirmation, his mouth too full to respond in words. Between the filthy  
phrases pouring out of Ian, the cock down his throat and the rod up his ass, he was fucking gone.  
He dropped his hand down to his bobbing dick. He began to jerk himself off while reaching up  
with his other hand to massage Ian's balls.

The visual was too much for Ian to handle. Mickey was a fucking beast, able to have his holes  
filled while pleasuring both of them with his hands. "So goddamn sexy, holy shit," He  
complimented, shaking his head in disbelief of what his husband was capable of, "gonna make me  
cum."

The praise spurred Mickey to close his lips around him tighter, knead him deeper, bounce faster  
and tug harder. Ian coated his throat with his climax while the brunet shook and spasmed through  
his own orgasm.

Leaning against the stall, Ian attempted to catch his breath while looking down at his husband in  
awe. "Fucking badass, you know that?"

"Been told," Mickey replied, "Knees are weak, man." He raised his arms so Ian could help him  
up.

"Like the present?" Ian asked, lathering soap on his lover's body before doing the same to his  
own.

"Pretty fucking fun." He grinned at his husband. "Like it when you buy the toys. Used to be  
jealous of them."

"Was never jealous," Ian denied, knowing that he was completely full of shit. He had been. He'd  
had difficulty understanding why Mickey ever wanted to fuck with something that wasn't his  
cock. He started to get it the more they'd experimented. He had a husband who loved to change it  
up in bed and was up for a challenge. Once he'd let go of the idea that toys were competition, it  
had exponentially broadened their horizons in the bedroom. As fun as it was to try new things,  
nothing would beat the their bodies coming together.

"Mmm," Mickey hummed raising a skeptical eyebrow, "Alright."

"It's not better than my cock though, right?" He attempted to be nonchalant, but he most definitely  
wasn't.

"Nothing's better than your cock," His husband assured him, pressing a kiss firmly on his mouth.

A familiar flutter pulsed in Ian's stomach and he smiled against Mickey's lips, thinking that if after  
15 years those butterflies hadn't gone away, they probably never would.

"I'll be out in a minute," Mickey said when Ian stepped out of the shower and dried off his hair.

"Take your time. The hot water's good for your back." He wrapped the towel around his waist  
and headed over to his nightstand to check the time on his phone.

"Mickey," He cried as soon as slid open his gmail, "Baby!"

"What?" The brunet called back, annoyed that the asshole told him to take his time and was now  
bothering him. He peeked out of the shower curtain to see his husband standing outside it as if  
he'd just seen a ghost. "Ian? What's wrong?"

"I fucking passed." A huge smile spread across his face.

"Of course you fucking passed," Mickey stated with a grin.

Ian laughed when his husband jumped out of the shower and tackled him onto the slippery tile  
floor.

"Smartest motherfucker I know," He said proudly, peppering the jubilant redhead with kisses.

"You've met Lip, right?"

"Smartest motherfucker that I don't wanna punch in the fucking mouth," Mickey clarified,  
pinching Ian's cheeks together and looking directly into his eyes, "You did it."

"I did it," Ian repeated as if he was letting it sink in, "We did it."

"I didn't do shit, Gallagher," Mickey protested, tussling Ian's damp locks playfully, "All you."

"Look around, Milkovich," Ian whispered, "We did this."

As Mickey leaned down to kiss him, Ian reminisced on how far they'd come. Finally their  
propensity for South Side scrapping had come in handy. They'd clawed their way to a good life.

Chapter Twenty-Six: Warm House

“Are you gonna help or what?” Ian groused as he buzzed around the living room picking up  
shoes, socks, and other assorted items that were strewn over the floor. He stood still for a moment  
to give his lounging husband an unimpressed glare.

“I don’t throw my shit on the floor, so I don’t gotta clean shit off the floor,” He stated matter-of-factly,   
turning the page of the magazine he was reading, “I’m buying a   
glock tomorrow.”

“Now? You want to do this now? Everyone’s gonna be here in like 10 minutes, I’m trying to  
clean and you’re trying to fuck around with the gun shit?”

Mickey shrugged, “Ain’t asking permission, Firecrotch. Told you I’d get a safe and lock it up  
when the kid’s around.”

Ian tossed an armful of various crap into the coat closet and kicked it in further before closing the  
door. He threw both middle fingers up at his husband who was looking at him with amusement.

“You’re a messy motherfucker, y’know that?” Mickey teased, watching as the redhead stomped  
into the kitchen.

“You’re a stubborn motherfucker,” He called back to him, “Don’t see why you need a gun. Shit’s  
different now.”

“Not that different. We’re still on the fucking South Side, Ian. Don’t forget that.”

“How are you even gonna to get one, hmm?” He questioned, placing bowls of chips onto their  
kitchen table, “I’ll fucking use it to kill you if you get it from some dude on the street and get  
thrown in the can. I swear.”

“I’m legit now,” Mickey scoffed, “Gonna go to the Gun Shop.”

“There are background checks. You were in for attempted murder, they’re not gonna sell you  
one.”

“Welcome to Donald Trump’s America, where they’ll give a gun to anyone. Hey!” He protested  
as Ian grabbed the magazine out of his hand and slid it under the couch, “I was fucking reading  
that, asshole.”

“Go turn on the barbeque. C’mon,” He took both of Mickey’s hands in his and yanked him up.

“And if you’re gonna get one, I want one, too,” He said giving him a kiss.

Mickey punched out a laugh. “Such a bitch, man. What happened to not wanting one in the  
house?”

“If we’re gonna have one, may as well have two, right?” Ian replied, yelping when Mickey laid a  
hard spank on his ass.

“Drive me fucking crazy, you know that?”

“You love it,” Ian whispered, pulling on Mickey’s bottom lip with his teeth. He hummed his  
appreciation when the brunet slid his tongue into his mouth and backed him up against the wall.  
Dropping his hands below the waistband of Mickey’s shorts, he grasped handfuls of his ass as the  
kiss intensified. They were so wrapped up in each other that they didn’t hear the front door open.

“If I knew it was this kind of party I would not have brought my son,” Svetlana stated with a  
smirk. Yevgeny chuckled uncomfortably and looked down at his sneakers to avoid having to see  
his dad and Ian adjusting their pants.

Mickey flipped her the finger and turned to greet Yevgeny, "Wanna help me with the grill?"

The boy nodded his head eagerly, pleased to be included.

"And what can I do?" Svetlana asked as Mickey and Yev headed to the backyard.

"Cut the onions?" Ian suggested with a grin.

"Many things change, but I can always count on the fact that you will be a pussy when it comes to  
such a simple task," Svetlana chided with a click of her tongue. She patted Ian's back  
companionably as they walked into the kitchen.

They worked quietly for a few minutes until Svetlana made a somewhat concerted effort to draw  
his attention simply by narrowing her green eyes at him and waiting.

"What?" He asked expectantly, shifting uncomfortably under her stare.

"I did not trust you, but now I think I might and I do not like it," She stated with a sigh, "It was  
not just Mickey that you hurt back then. It was Yevgeny," She paused, as if she was debating  
uttering the next words, "and me, too."

Ian was taken aback by the admission. Even when things were good between them many years  
ago, they never discussed emotions. "I'm sorry," Ian began, but he was cut off by Svetlana  
shaking her head.

"I do not want to hear your remorse, I just want to know that you will not do it again. Your  
husband would not survive this and my Yevgeny would not either."

"We're married. I love him. I would never..."

"Marriage is only a piece of paper," Svetlana interrupted, "I was married to him, too and love..."

She tsked, "You loved him before, this did not stop you from leaving him behind. It is not either  
of these things that convinces me. Only loyalty. In the end this is all that matters."

Just as Ian was about to respond he heard Fiona's voice calling from the living room, "Party's  
here!"

Before he went to greet his family he approached Svetlana, wrapping her in a tight hug. At first,  
she kept her hands to the side, reluctant to return the affection. When he held the embrace, she felt  
compelled to hold him back.

"This is a sight I never thought I'd see," Lip teased as he, Grace, Fiona, Debbie and Liam entered  
the kitchen.

The former adversaries backed away from each other, not wanting to acknowledge the moment  
that had just existed between them.

"We need a tour!" Debbie squealed as she hugged her brother.

"Maybe I should let Grace give it," Ian replied with a laugh, smiling at their realtor. "I gotta get  
Yevvy. He'll be pissed if I don't give him the glory of showing off his room. Hang on."

He walked over to the window and cracked it open to he could call out to the back patio for Yev  
to come in.

"They spoil him," Svetlana complained, as Debbie gave her a squeeze, "He has a television in his  
bedroom."

"No shit," Lip blurted, impressed with how hooked up Yevgeny was.

"It's a gorgeous house, Sweetface," Fiona complimented, standing on her tippy toes in order to  
kiss her brother's cheek, "Proud of you."

Ian licked his lips and nodded. Though they'd had their issues over the past few years, it meant a  
lot to hear his sister say that. Unlike his prior circumstance, he'd put effort into both the purchase  
of the house and the breadth of his relationship.

"You gonna show us around?" Fiona asked, giving Yevgeny a hug once he entered the room.

"Yeah! We'll start in my room," He said excitedly, gesturing for the Gallaghers to follow him up  
the stairs.

The tour was extensive, with Yevgeny informing the guests what he'd heard his father and Ian  
argue about regarding the usage and furnishings of each room. By the time they made their way to  
the backyard, Mickey had burgers, hot dogs and grilled cheeses ready to be devoured. The hungry  
bunch wasted no time digging in.

As the night waned, so did the guests, leaving one by one for various reasons, with the exception  
of Lip, Grace and late addition Sam, who had come by after he finished with his last client at  
CUT.

"Want me to roll one?" Lip asked as they lounged on the Adirondack chairs on the back patio.

"Fuck yeah," Mickey replied licking his lips in anticipation. He'd been reacquainting himself with  
weed since mandatory drug testing became a thing of the past and enjoying every hit. Lip nimbly  
rolled the joint, lit it up, and passed it to Mickey so he could take the first drag. The brunet  
regarded his brother-in-law skeptically, as if trying to determine who he was and why he wasn’t  
being a dick, but took a deep inhale nonetheless.

He tilted his head back and blew the smoke up towards the star filled sky, letting it billow like the  
smog that typically obscured the view. The early August evening was perfect; the impending shift  
in weather becoming apparent by the lack of heavy heat in the air once the sun dropped off the  
horizon. He looked over to Ian who was laughing at something Sam was saying while reaching  
for his right ear with his left hand, his arm crossing over his broad chest like a shield. Mickey  
nudged him so he’d reach his hand out and take the weed. He watched as his husband brought the  
joint to his lips and inhaled, finding that it was taking a shitload of his self-control not to climb  
onto the redhead’s lap and urge a shotgun.

By the time the weed made its rotations and was heading back to Mickey for the fourth time, he  
didn’t give much of a fuck who was around, “C’mere,” He waved Ian towards him, the other man  
smiling when he leaned in, quite aware of what was going down. The brunet pulled in the smoke  
before slotting his lips against Ian’s, both opening slowly so Ian could inhale his husband’s exhale.  
They let their tongues tangle through the remaining smoke for a moment before breaking apart,  
leaving just enough space between them for Ian to take a hit and do the same to Mickey. Without  
taking his lips off of his husband’s, Ian reached behind him allowing Sam to grab the joint from  
his fingers. The armrests blocked them from getting as close as they wanted to, but they continue  
to kiss, reaching their hands up to rest on the other’s cheeks.

“Should we fuck off or…?” Lip questioned, earning a smack from his girlfriend and the finger  
from Mickey.

Still, they reluctantly peeled their lips away, looking at each other with want and blown out pupils.

“So, I’m thinking of asking Tim to move in,” Sam blurted.

“No shit!” Ian said excitedly, grinning as his husband squeezed onto the chair next to him, one ass  
cheek on his thigh from a lack of room. Knowing what Mickey wanted, but was too tentative to  
go for outwardly among the company, he looped his arms around his waist and pulled him up so  
he was on his lap and pressed a kiss onto his neck. “When?”

“Soon? Next few days maybe?” His friend replied, “Wanna lock it down.”

“How long have you guys been together?” Grace asked taking a sip of her beer as Lip shifted in  
his chair and coughed.

“Only a couple of months, but when you know you know,” Sam responded, “and I know.”

“That’s awesome,” She said before tapping Lip on the knee, “You hear that, babe? They’ve been  
together only a few months and he’s not scared to make a commitment. Pretty beautiful, right?”

Lip nodded his agreement while shooting a dirty look towards Ian and Mickey who were laughing  
at his discomfort.

“Gotta say I owe it all to Mick,” Sam continued, grinning at his friend, “If it weren’t for you being  
a dick and embarrassing me at the Club that night I probably wouldn’t have had the rocks to go  
for it.”

“Yeah, well… whatever,” Mickey shrugged, both unsure of how to respond and mostly  
uninterested in the conversation. He wanted everyone to go the fuck home.

“I think it’s great,” Ian stated, pulling the brunet in closer to him and giving his neck another kiss,  
“Maybe we’ll be dancing at your wedding soon, huh?”

“Ain’t gonna dance, but if you have beer I’ll show up,” Mickey teased, drawing an eye roll out of  
both Ian and Sam, “So…” he cleared his throat knowing he was going to catch hell from his  
husband for the question he was about to ask, “Are you all gonna get the fuck outta here anytime  
soon or are you gonna keep cockblocking me?”

Lip laughed immediately when Ian chided his husband for being a ‘prick.’

The redhead shrugged apologetically at Grace whose mouth was hanging open at the bluntness  
and Sam who looked unfazed, more than used to Mickey’s brashness, “He’s just kidding.”

“Not fucking kidding,” Mickey disagreed with a tisk, “It’s like 2 in the morning and I’m on a  
breakfast tomorrow.”

“You could just yawn and say you’re tired like normal fucking people,” Ian scolded, watching as  
his guests started to stand up from the chairs. He pushed Mickey off of him to say his ‘goodbyes’  
and walk everyone out. When the house was clear he turned back to Mickey who was looking at  
him with a smirk on his face, “You’re in trouble Mikhailo.”

“Just how I like it,” He replied, laughing as Ian chased him up the stairs.


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter Twenty-Seven: Traveling with McAlo

Mickey yawned, watching the lights of the city blur by as the El sped to their destination. The  
rhythmic clicking of the train on its rails threatened to lull him to sleep, but he fought the slumber.  
Rubbing the back of his neck, he stared at the small row houses under the track, remembering  
when he lived in one and the raucous lullaby of his childhood. It was different on Dante Street.  
Though they were still on the South Side, the block was quieter than he was used do; mostly  
occupied by people around their age, raising their kids. Yevgeny had made a few friends, which  
was nice but Mickey couldn’t help but be uncomfortable when he disappeared with them for  
hours at a time doing who knows what. When he thought back to the shit he was doing at nine, he  
grew even more concerned. Still, Yevgeny was much better adjusted than he ever was. As much  
as he complained about Svetlana, she was an amazing mother; as firm as she was loving. He was  
beginning to feel that he wasn’t that bad as a dad either. He and Yevgeny had developed an easy  
rapport and he was gaining the confidence to discipline him when necessary, though he was glad  
that it wasn’t often required. He hadn’t deliberately decided not to hit his kid; he hadn’t really  
made any conscious choices in regards to Yevgeny or parenting him. He just did what felt right  
and growing up afraid of a man’s hands, in many ways, made physical punishment feel wrong to  
him.

“Close your eyes,” His husband urged, interrupting his thoughts as he rested a hand on his thigh.  
Though the touch was grounding and protective, it did not allow the brunet to drop his guard.

“Nah.” He rubbed his eyes and sighed, “Only advice I still take of Terry’s: Never fall asleep on  
the El.”

“I’m here,” Ian reminded him, “Not gonna let anyone steal your shit, birthday boy.”

“Shove it with the ‘birthday boy’ shit, and I’m good,” Mickey stated, giving Ian a kiss before  
turning to gaze out the window again. It was strange how only hours could make Chicago feel so  
different. At 11:00pm the cityscape crackled with promise and the buzz of energy, but, now, at  
4:00am the bright bulbs were a gentle nightlight to a city asleep; asleep like he should’ve been.

“You nervous?” Ian asked with a slight teasing quality in his voice.

“Not nervous so much as wondering why the fuck we’re up at the ass crack of dawn to get on a  
flying death machine.”

“Flying death machine?” Ian repeated with a laugh, “but you’re not nervous at all, right?”

“Fuck off, dickbreath,”He scoffed, nudging his nose and attempting to hold back the grin that was  
pulling up his lips as he looked at his husband’s raised eyebrows.

“My mouth wouldn’t smell like dick if you would stop shoving yours in there,” Ian stated simply  
with a smirk.

“Well that ain’t gonna fucking happen, so I better get used to it, huh?” Mickey chuckled as the  
redhead leaned in to lay a succession of pecks on his lips.

“We’ll be fine,” He assured him, intertwining their fingers and giving him a squeeze.

Mickey just nodded and studied the graffiti that was scrawled on the back of the seats in front of  
them. It wasn’t lost on him that Ian had done this before and he hadn’t. Prior to being locked up,  
and aside from Ian’s short stint in the army, they had lived similar lives; their world was only as  
big as the city itself. But things had changed for Ian after he went away. He was no longer  
confined by the limits of money or mind. He’d spent summers in Monaco and springs in Paris.  
He’d been to New Orleans for Mardi Gras and New York for New Year’s. As the years had  
dragged on for Mickey, they flew by on a G650 for Ian. No matter how in sync they remained,  
there was no erasing the time spent apart, growing and changing with their disparate experiences.  
They sat in silence until they reached the airport.

“C’mon,” Ian prompted, elbowing his husband’s forearm gently and tilting his head to indicate  
that it was their stop.

Mickey hoisted his duffle over his shoulder so they could disembark. “Can’t believe we aren’t the  
only dumbasses up at this early,” He mused as they walked through the airport towards security.

“Told you it’s cheaper,” Ian said taking their place at the end of the long line, “Plus a lot of the  
nonstops leave first thing in the morning. We would’ve had to go to NYC by way of DC.”

“In the middle of the night,” Mickey corrected, “And that makes no fucking sense.”

Ian shrugged, “I don’t know why they do that, but they do and our flight’s at 6:00, that’s officially  
morning, even for your whiny ass.”

“Why the fuck are we here at 4:30 then?” He snapped as if Ian hadn’t told him twenty times what  
time their flight was and why they needed to get there an hour before it.

“Security takes a while, and then we gotta get to our gate,” The redhead stated with an aggravated  
exhale, “Take your shoes off.”

“They should let us keep ‘em on.” He reluctantly kicked off his shoes anyway as he received a death glare from his husband,   
“What? He gave him a spank on the ass just as the elderly couple standing in front of them turned around to shoot them both a look of disgust.

“Got a fucking problem?” Mickey barked at them, prompting them to snap their heads’ forward  
quickly, “Never seen gay guys before? Probably vote for us not to get married but can’t look us in  
the eyes.”

“Shut the fuck up,” Ian hissed, grabbing his husband’s cheeks and smooshing them together so his  
lips were pushed into a pouty pucker, “You’re gonna get us thrown out!”

“For having a conversation?” He questioned raising his eyebrows sky high, “This an airport or a  
prison?”

“Just chill.” He gave his husband a quick kiss on his fish lips, “Chill.”

Mickey knocked Ian’s wrist with the back of his hand to get him to release his face, “I’m good,  
I’m good.”

“Get out your identification, they’re gonna check it against our tickets.”

The grouchy brunet did as he was told and when they reached the TSA agent, he handed it over.  
“McAlo Alkazander Mikovik,” The agent read, completely butchering his name, “Where’d you  
get a name like that from?”

“My cunt of a mother and piece of shit father,” He stated matter-of-factly while Ian stood there  
completely unfazed.

The man laughed heartily, “Yeah, makes sense, but what’s the origin? What’s their nationality?”  
“Ain’t from ISIS if that’s what you’re asking,” He snapped, causing his husband to close his eyes  
for a moment to collect himself.

“ISIS isn’t a…” Ian shook his head and sighed, aware that his husband knew but evidently  
wanted to bring up ISIS in the middle of the airport, “They’re Ukrainian,” He informed the guard  
who was glancing around as if he was looking for another agent. Ian put his hand on the nape of  
his husband’s neck, a not so subtle signal that he should shut his mouth.

“Well,” The agent began, handing him back his i.d, “How do you say ‘Happy Birthday’ in  
Ukrainian?”

“Don’t speak it,” Mickey replied, “But if you wanna make my birthday real happy, let us the fuck  
through so I can get some goddamn coffee.”

“Not a morning person, I see,” The man teased with a grin. He took Ian’s identification and ticket,

“Ian Clayton Milkovik. You two brothers?”

“Fags,” The brunet corrected as Ian smiled weakly at the man.

He nodded, unsure of how to respond, and waved them through to the screening.

“Fucking homo haters everywhere,” Mickey groused as they walked to their gate.

“Remind me that when I book our trip to Hawaii, we’re not flying in the morning, even if it’s  
cheaper. Can’t take you in full force this early,” Ian chided, punching out an exhale.

“How about I remind you that you don’t wanna hang out with me when your horny ass tries to  
fuck in the middle of the night, too?” Mickey clicked his tongue and smirked, “Bet you won’t like  
that.” Ian rolled his eyes, unimpressed by the statement, “And I already told you we ain’t going to  
Hawaii. Not made of money, bitch.”

“But that ass is stacked…” The redhead teased, grabbing himself a handful.

“Shut the fuck up,” Mickey laughed, shoving him off.

“This is us.” Ian gestured to the gate, “Sit here and I’ll go grab us coffee, alright?”

“Yeah, fine,” Mickey said taking the only free seat which was next to woman that had a cat in a  
carrier. He gave her the side eye before looking back towards Ian, “Get me one of those sweet ass  
things you drink. If we’re gonna fucking die, I wanna do it with the taste of you and chocolate in  
my mouth.”

The woman looked completely aghast and Ian wasn’t sure if it was the reference of death or oral  
sex that had her bristled. He just nodded dutifully at his husband, placing his bag on Mickey’s lap  
before heading towards the coffee shop.

As he walked further away he could hear the faint sound of Mickey’s voice saying something that  
sounded vaguely like ‘Did I fucking ask you?’ and then the shrieking of a cat. He shook his head,  
thinking that the trip was already off to a great start.

Chapter Twenty-Eight: Doggy Style

“Don’t get you from behind enough,” Ian crooned as he snapped his hips and thrust his cock into  
his husband’s ass. He looped one arm low around Mickey’s waist and used the other to hug his  
neck, as his chest laid flank against his lover’s shoulder blades.

“Say that every time you hit if from the back,” The brunet panted, resting his cheek on the fluffy  
hotel comforter so he could peer over his shoulder to watch Ian’s muscles flex and contract as he  
worked him, “That fucking body, goddamn,” Mickey complimented, earning his ass a harder  
pounding that pushed him incrementally closer to the edge of the bed. Digging his fingers into the  
bedspread in order to steel himself, he began pushing back every time his husband surged  
forward.

Though Mickey loved having sex with Ian any way they did it, the aggressive fucking always  
held a certain air of nostalgia for him. Back when they were kids, he never thought just by looking  
at him that the freckle faced redhead would’ve been able to throw dick the way he did, but he’d  
learned when it came to Ian Gallagher, a sweet face was deceiving. The first time they’d fucked,  
Mickey was a virgin in the only way that was meaningful to him. Sure, he’d been with plenty of  
girls, but it wasn’t the same as getting what he craved, the thing he needed to feel full and  
satisfied. None of the toys he’d collected up until that point were able to compare to the real thing.  
As soon as that ballsy little fucker made his way inside of him, Mickey had become a fiend. From  
then on, Ian had buried himself under his skin as deeply as he’d rammed himself into his ass.  
There was something to be said for the stamina and endurance it took to really go at it. It would be  
easy for one of them to lay back and let the other do the work, which of course they did  
sometimes based on their moods, but it wasn’t their go-to. Their baseline was grinding it out to  
please the other man; wanting to make him feel as good as possible. While some may have  
believed that type of sex lacked romance, Mickey knew better. To him, it was all love. It was  
happiness.

“Just like that,” He groaned as Ian angled up to hit his prostate head on. He wasn’t sure if the  
white streaks of light he was seeing were from the mid-morning sunrays streaming into their hotel  
room or if he was close to passing out, “Ohhh right there baby. Fuck, right there.” Hearing whines  
leaking out of his mouth in spite of himself, he tucked his face into the comforter and bit into the  
cloth to muffle the sounds.

Seeing how feral his husband looked with his mouth and fingers full of the bedspread, pushed Ian  
over the edge. He moaned as he filled that perfect ass with his cum.

“Dick,” Mickey laughed as Ian’s pace stuttered, “I was right fucking there.”

“Shit.”

After he twitched through an aftershock, the redhead pulled out much to his husband’s chagrin.  
Just as Mickey was about to lay into him for denying him what was shaping up to be a  
mind-blowing orgasm, he saw Ian sliding under his legs so his mouth was right at cock level.

“Fuck my face,” He prompted from underneath of him, causing Mickey to raise his eyebrows  
momentarily before beginning to roll his hips. It didn’t take him long to establish a rhythm that had  
both of them moaning.

He dropped his head down in to watch his husband take it and then glanced over his shoulder in  
the hope of catching a glimpse of that cock that had been driving him wild just moments before.  
What he saw instead was his filthy cumslut of a husband running his fingertips through the jizz  
that was leaking out of his ass onto his stomach. It took a split second of observing the way he  
was smoothing it into his skin to have Mickey gone. He poured down his lover’s throat with a cry,  
legs shaking and cock quivering.

“See, I always take care of my man,” Ian flirted as Mickey pulled out and rolled onto his back,  
trying to catch his breath.

“Yes you fucking do,” The brunet hummed, loving the way Ian’s body wrapped around him,  
“Can we skip lunch and do that again?”

“Only if we want Mandy to castrate us.”

“Don’t make me think about life without a cock,” Mickey laughed.

“Two cocks,” Ian corrected.

“Even fucking worse,” Mickey stated with a smirk. He protested when Ian grabbed his hands so  
he could yank him out of bed, but got up and followed him to the shower without further  
complaints.

They got ready expeditiously considering they were already late and Mandy had to work that  
evening. Though Mickey didn't think he would give a shit about the sights around Manhattan, he  
had surprised both himself and Ian with the interest he had in checking things out. He was  
reluctant to admit that he was pretty sure the desire stemmed from a childhood obsession with  
"Home Alone 2: Lost in New York." He knew that if he decided to share that tidbit of information  
with his husband, it would just make the goofball love him more.

They made their way to the High Line, a park built on a historic freight rail line that was elevated  
above the streets of West Side.

"Pretty fucking cool," Mickey mused, taking in the view as they walked towards the open air  
restaurant Mandy and Olivia were standing in front of.

"You're late," Mandy chided, giving each of them a hug before Olivia did the same.

"Still recovering from last night?" The perky girl asked Mickey with a wink.

"You talking about all of us getting wasted at that gay ass club or all the fucking we did?" Mickey  
questioned.

"I don't think you can call a club 'gay ass' in the same sentence where you're talking about getting  
your gay ass fucked," Mandy informed with a grin, "C'mon, I'm starving." She looped her elbow  
around Ian's and when Olivia attempted to do the same with Mickey, she got his patented 'what  
the fuck face' and bashfully retreated.

"We splitting?" Mickey asked Ian as they looked over the menu.

Ian nodded, "Burger and Chicken Tenders?"

"Yup."

"You guys are goals, I swear," Olivia gushed, "Too cute! You even couple order."

Ian grinned and rested his hand on his husband's thigh.

"Y'know I don't understand like 90% of the shit that comes outta your mouth," Mickey stated,  
lighting up a cigarette and passing it to Ian before sparking one up for himself.

"Thought you were quitting, 'Body By Ian'" Mandy teased.

"Yeah, well, vacation and all that." He waved off the inquiry and attempted to change the subject,

"So did Mick tell you guys we're getting a dog?"

"What?!" Mandy exclaimed, "That's amazing."

"We're not," Mickey disagreed, but was completely ignored by the rest of the table as they  
chartered excitedly about the puppy they weren't getting.

"Did you guys decide on what breed?" Olivia asked, leaning her elbows on the table and resting  
her chin on her hands, "I think you should get a Wheaton. They look like Chewbacca! Who  
doesn't love Chewy?"

"Do your Chewbacca," Ian prompted Mickey, garnering a tattooed middle finger in his face.

"Do it," Mandy urged.

Mickey rolled his eyes, "Why don't I take a picture of you guys on the edge of the park? I can  
keep telling you all to move back until you fall the fuck off."

"So salty," Ian said giving the back of his husband's neck a squeeze, "We're definitely gonna  
rescue."

"We're not getting a dog though," Mickey stated, as Ian, Mandy and Olivia discussed possible  
names.

"I think you should do something like Dr. Doggie McBarky. Like super cheesy," Olivia suggested  
with a laugh.

"No way Mick would go for that," Mandy giggled at the idea of her brother with a stupidly named  
pet, "He'd want something like Thor or Segal."

"Oh fuck off," Mickey spat, feeling his cheeks flush.

"Steven could never dick you down like me," Ian tsked, earning him a smack upside his head  
from Mickey. He knocked his husband's hand away and made his way back to the conversation,

"I kinda like Thor but he'd have to be a tough dog to pull it off."

"Not getting one," Mickey said, realizing that every time he spoke a word of dissent it fell on deaf  
ears.

"You should get a girl dog," Mandy stated, "You have like zero female energy in your house."

"That's the way we like it," Mickey informed her, "And still no dog."

"Don't female dogs get their periods?" Olivia questioned with a grimace, "They have to wear  
diapers and stuff."

"That's only if you don't get them fixed," Mandy said, "and male dogs that aren't neutered are  
gross too, shooting their spooge all over."

"Where do you even get this shit from?" Olivia laughed.

"Seriously though, I'm happy for you guys! Yevvy is probably so excited!" Mandy cooed, "I miss  
him!"

"He's not excited cause he don't know shit about it cause it ain't fucking happening," Mickey  
promised.

"OMG, can you imagine how cute he's going to look in pictures with his childhood dog? He'll  
look back on them so fondly. I had a cat named Butterball that I loved so much. I really think it  
enhances your childhood to have a pet," Olivia rambled, "I think all kids benefit from learning  
about that type of unconditional love."

They were getting a dog.

Chapter Twenty-Nine: Four Walls

It took a total of 18 hours after returning from New York for Ian, Mickey and Yevgeny to walk  
through the doors of the animal shelter. Mickey knew he should’ve learned his lesson from house  
hunting and left Yevgeny at his mother’s, but it felt wrong to get a dog without his input. Though  
Mickey wasn’t originally keen on the idea, Olivia’s speech about pets being an important part of  
childhood had gotten to him. It seemed like an easy enough way to add something good to  
Yevgeny’s life. As much as he hated to think of it, Yev had a rough start. Svetlana had done her  
best to give him everything she could, but the one thing she was unable to provide was a  
relationship with his father that existed without a thick plane of glass between them.

He tried not to do it too often, but sometimes he let his mind wander and think about what his life  
would have been like if he hadn’t tried to get revenge on that stankass cunt. He knew now that  
there was no way he and Ian would’ve stayed away from one another. Mickey would have fought  
for his husband to fight for himself and though he was sure it would’ve been messy for a while,  
they would have figured it out. They’d survived more; they would have persevered through less.  
Maybe they were too young then, with emotions too big. Perhaps they’d needed those years apart  
to understand what they had, what they’d lost. He wasn’t delusional enough to believe that Ian  
didn’t currently own his ass just as he had back then, but the time he’d spent in prison had made  
him stronger, more self-aware. Somehow he’d found his way to accept himself, realize that in so  
many ways he deserved better.

He’d never be able to deny what Jake had done for him. Though there was no hope could have  
loved the cop, not when his heart was still held in Ian’s hands, the way that Jake had loved him  
had been more meaningful than he ever imagined. Jake made him believe he was worthy, after  
spending years alone in prison feeling anything but. He’d showed him that he could be a complete  
person without Ian, though he may not have wanted to be. The most important thing Jake had left  
him with was the recognition that regardless of his emotional growth and shift in perspective, it  
would always be Ian who lit him on fire, in the most negative and positive ways possible. His  
husband was his soul’s passion and his heart’s beat. The thought of living life without him was  
more painful than any of the agony he’d endured in years before.

He’d always thought it was cliché when people said they loved their spouse more and more every  
day. Now, he wondered why their love grew by the hour when his multiplied by the minute,  
swelled by the second. Even when the redhead was pissing him the fuck off, which he did quite  
often, he’d found a way to love him more. During their years apart his emotions laid dormant  
under his skin, always threating to bubble over under the right conditions. As soon as he saw his  
face, kissed his lips, touched his body, the feelings erupted; the heat between them burning  
anybody that stood in its path.

“We’re looking to rescue a dog,” Ian said to the guy that had greeted them once they’d entered the  
door.

“You came to the right place,” He chirped, reaching out to shake his hand, “A big dog? Small  
dog? Puppy? Kid? Elder?” He questioned, grabbing his clipboard.

“Umm,” Ian looked to Mickey. They hadn’t discussed the details, just that they were going to get  
a dog, “What d’you think?”

“How the fuck should I know?” He scoffed, earning a wide eyed look from the man.

“Why don’t we go meet a few and see if one or two endear themselves to you?” He suggested,  
opening the doors that led back to the kennels, “We actually have a lot of sibling sets if you’re  
thinking of getting more than one.”

“We’re not,” Mickey said quickly. That he knew.

“Alright. Well, all of our dogs are mutts. We don’t have any papers on them regarding breed or  
history. We have performed basic medical tests on all of them and each dog has a microchip.”

“That’s some roboshit, right Mick?” Ian said grinning excitedly at his husband, who just nodded,  
unsure of what the fuck the guy was talking about.

“Do you have any poodles?” Yevgeny questioned, drawing confused looks from his father and  
the redhead, “My mom said they’re probably your favorite dog,” He stated looking at Ian, “That  
you’d want it wear little sweaters, bows, and stuff like that.”

Mickey was amused by the statement and Ian just shrugged not wanting to get into it. He knew  
that Svetlana had warmed to him, but clearly that didn’t mean she was going to stop giving him  
shit anytime soon.

“No poodles,” The guy replied with a frown, “They’re hypoallergenic and pretty expensive, so  
people don’t get rid of them so frequently.”

Yevgeny nodded his understanding.

They peeked into cage after cage, trying to find a dog that they all agreed on. Ian wanted a fast  
runner, Yevgeny’s priority was fluffy fur, and Mickey wasn’t sure he wanted one at all. When  
they saw a chunky, sad looking guy who the worker seemed to think was a bulldog/pitbull mix,  
their preferences were tossed out the window.

“Dad!” Yevgeny exclaimed, “Look! He has blue eyes like us!”

Mickey studied the dog, thinking that he was the ugliest fucking dude he’d ever seen, which kind  
of made him a little cute.

“We estimate that this big boy here is around five-years-old. He’s not very high energy. He mostly  
just lays around giving the rest of the dogs dirty looks,” The guy explained with a shrug, “We’ve  
had him here for a while, so…” He stopped his statement when he remembered that there was a  
child among them and cleared his throat, “He’s housebroken and he knows certain commands like  
‘sit, come, and lay down’ which of course is his favorite.”

“I feel like you’re making fun of the fucker,” Mickey stated, unsure why he was getting so  
aggravated by the way the guy was talking about the dog.

“Oh I’m not,” He said quickly, throwing his hands up in surrender, “He’s a great boy.”

“What d’you think, Yevvy? You like him?” Mickey asked, ignoring the man that was now firmly  
on his shit list.

“I love him! He’s so cute!” Yevgeny practically squealed.

“Gallagher?”

“Milkovich,” Ian corrected as he stared at the dog, “His face looks like yours when you’re pissed  
off.” He said, immediately laughing at the revelation, “Oh man. He’s Grumpy Mickey in dog  
form!”

“He does look like dad’s angry face,” Yevgeny chuckled, looking at the dog, then his father, back  
to the dog and to Mickey again, “Dad, give me a mad face.”

“You’re definitely rounding the corner to one,” He stated plainly, biting his lower lip.

“Do you guys want me to take him out and play with him?” The worker asked, unlocking the  
cage as they nodded the affirmative. He held back the other two dogs that were with him as the  
big guy ambled out. He slowly made his way over to Mickey and laid down on his feet, “That’s  
kinda all he does.” The man informed them.

“So he’s likes to cuddle?” Ian asked with a shit eating grin.  
Mickey shot him a dirty look and the finger, quite aware what he was getting at.

“I love him,” Yevgeny crooned, kneeling so he could pet the lethargic dog.

“Don’t think he’s going to do much running,” The man told Ian, who didn’t seem all that  
concerned about his former priorities anymore. If they got the dog he’d have two grumpy Mickeys  
to love.

“I love him, too,” Ian agreed, raising his eyebrows and awaiting Mickey’s decision.

“We’ll take him,” He said, leaning down to scratch the dog’s head.

On the El ride home, Mickey couldn’t help but smile as he watched Yevgeny hug the dog, who  
was sitting next to him in his own seat looking like he was unimpressed by the train and everyone  
on it.

“We should call him Grumpy Mickey,” Ian proposed, “He’s got the blue eyes and a similar face.”

“No he fucking doesn’t,” Mickey objected, immediately shooting his husband a glare that looked  
just like the dog.

“I like it,” Yevgeny agreed, causing Mickey to shake his head in disappointment.  
“Whose side are you on, man?”

Yevgeny just grinned, “We can call him Grumpy for short or Grumps.”

“Love it.” Ian smiled.

“Of course you would you piece of shit.” He dropped his voice lower, “I’m not fucking you for  
like a week.”

“Yeah right.” His husband just laughed at the threat, while Mickey shook his head angrily.

“What do you think, Grumps? Do you like your new name?” Yevgeny asked, continuing to chat  
with the dog for the rest of the train ride, while Mickey ignored Ian’s pokes and prods for  
attention.

When they disembarked, Yevgeny tried to get Grumps to run with him, but the dog had other  
ideas, making his way slowly down the sidewalk.

“Look how happy he is,” Ian mused, as Yev gave the dog a motivational speech to try to get him  
to pick up his pace, “I think you’re good at this parenting shit.”

Mickey just shrugged, trying not to get ahead of himself. “I’m trying. I guess there’s that.”

“You’re doing better than trying, Mick. You’re giving him a really nice life.” Ian slid his hand into  
the back pocket and Mickey’s jeans, wanting to feel connected.

“We’re,” The brunet amended. “We’re giving him a really nice life.” He watched as Yevgeny ran  
up the stairs of their house, calling for his dog to follow him. Mickey had fucked up a lot of things  
in his life, but he sure as hell wasn’t going to let Yevgeny be the next one. He couldn’t help but  
grin when he felt Ian’s long arms wrap around the back of his shoulders and his lips press against  
his cheek.

“I love this,” Ian whispered, feeling like the idealism of his youth wasn’t wasted now that he was  
experiencing his daydreams in real time, “I love you.” He always had. There hadn’t been a  
moment that passed since he saw Mickey Milkovich peeing on first base that he’d doubted it.  
He’d fucked up a lot of things in his life, but he sure as hell wasn’t going to let their life together  
be the next one.

“Love you, too, Mikovich,” Mickey replied, relishing in how protected he felt in Ian’s arms,

“Even when you annoy the shit out of me.”

He laughed when Ian blew a wet raspberry onto the side of his neck, spanked his ass, and grabbed  
his hand to pull him up the stairs of their house. Their house. The house where they'd raise  
Yevgeny and teach him how to be the man they'd wished they could've been from the start. The  
place where they'd laugh until they cried or maybe sometimes cry until they laughed. Where  
they'd bicker, fuck and become geriatric-viagroids together. Four walls and a roof that represented  
what they'd always found inside each other: home.


End file.
